#my computer has been a little fucky in the past

[nezumithewriter]

tried to play nocturnals and it finally saw to it that my video card's like become forfeit

this is the face of a man who just killed my pc /j

[tomssexdoll]

hey baybay

can u do 2010 bill and he’s on the couch working on the humanoid album on his laptop and he’s super duper busy and has been for the past few days. you’ve been sexually frustrated since he started getting busy all day everyday and your fingers weren’t cutting it anymore. you walk up to him on the couch, trying to get him to put his laptop down. “baby please? it’s been so long.. i miss your cock” you whine. he doesn’t respond until you let out a bratty whine. “i don’t need distractions, maus” he says. you huff and you climb on the couch on all 4 limbs and start laying soft pecks on his neck. “y/n i said no distractions.” he says sternly. “can’t help it when my pussy feels so neglected,” you respond. bills sharks his laptop and places it down and grabs you roughly. “then i guess im gonna need to make it feel loved again, hm?” THEN HE ABSOLUTELY ANNIHILATES UR COOCH IN SEVERAL POSITIONS ON THE COUCH and degrades🌚🌚

HEYYYY OFC

Bill has been SUPER busy with work lately, he's releasing the humanoid album soon and needs to work extra hard to see if everything is set up correctly.

This means I barely have any time to spend with him, no kisses, no cuddles, no sex, nothing. I've been so frustrated the past few days, getting tired of using my fingers. I needed his cock, badly.

Today I decided to annoy him, see if he would finally give in, even if it meant I'd get punished, at least he'd pay attention to me for a while. I stood in front of his computer, "babyyy" I grinned, trying to close his laptop but he grabbed my hand and softly pushed it away.

"Not now honey, busy" he muttered, eyes still glued to the screen, I sighed "baby please? it's been so long...I miss your cock" I whined. Nothing was working, he didn't give any mind to my whines and pleas.

But it was cut short. "Bill!" I whined, a hint of brattiness in my tone. He finally turned to me, frustration lingering in his eyes, "I don't need distractons maus, go do something" I sighed dramatically, crossing my arms and thinking of what I should do, surely he'd eventually cave?

Then, an idea hit me. If i just kept on distracting him, there was no way he wouldn't do anything. I slowly climbed onto the couch, crawling towards him and softly kissing his neck, little pecks peppered all over the skin. "Y/n, I said no distractions" he said sternly, pulling his neck away. I grunted, "can't help it when my pussy feels so neglected.." mumbling to myself.

It didn't take long for him to snap, he shut his computer harshly, grabbing me roughly and pulling me towards him, "then I guess I'm going to need to make it feeled loved again hm?"

My eyes lit up, nodding eagearly and laying back on the couch. He came in between my legs, lifting my oversized shirt up and sliding my panties off, seeing my aching, throbbing cunt.

"Oh baby..it's so wet, so needy for me" he pouted, sliding his pants and boxers off, his erection springing out. "Baby.." I whined, moving my hips to try and feel his cock at least brush on my folds.

"Patience baby.." he leaned in, kissing me softly and pushing his cock in, stretching me out after a while. "Oh fuck!" I cried out, all 8 inches buried in my needy cunt.

"You ready?" he smirked, I nodded and held onto him. He started to thrust hard and fast, my pussy finally relieved after being neglected for so long.

"Ohh fuck!" I cried out, my nails digging into his back, he groaned at the pain, motivating him to go faster. His cock was pounding in me, hitting every single spot that I loved.

"Fucking slut..can't even be patient, hm?" he growled, a hand coming to my bouncing boobs and squeezing them roughly, "gonna take every inch of me and you're gonna fucking love it, I better not hear you whine" he warned me, tone full of seriousness.

"O-okay.." I moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

As he rammed his cock into me it started to feel like too much, his cock would sometimes overstimulate me very quickly, causing me to have frequent breaks when fucking. But this time, it wasn't happening.

"Oww!" I whined, his eyes filled with rage "what did I fucking say?" he flipped me over, pounding into me from behind, smacking my ass roughly.

"Bad girl..fucking bratty slut..can't even take my cock" he spat harsh insults at me, slapping my ass harshly, red marks forming on the cheeks.

I kept crying out, his spanks only getting crueler, "B-bill!" I whimpered, balls slapping against my pussy harshly. "So fucking good..fuck.." he groaned, rolling his head back.

Bill kept on twisting me into different positions, riding him, doggystyle, missionary, even from the side.

His cock would pound up into me as I layed on my side, his hands caressing my waist softly, kissing my neck roughly and leaving marks everywhere. The pleasure was getting too hard to handle, switching positions every 5 minutes was NOT for the weak.

Finally, a knot formed in my stomach, his cock continuing to pound harshly into me, hitting my g spot constantly, waves of pleasure coursing throughout my body.

"Cum for me baby..be a good slut" he groaned, his face stuffed into my neck, his chest pressed against mine. "Mmm!" I cried out, my orgasm washing over me, cumming all over his perfect cock. He groaned at my pussy clenching around him, also cumming, his load shot deeply into me, coating my walls.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @tomsonlyslut @kaulitzsbabyy @ballhair @bkaulitzlover @estxkios @charliesgoodboy @ge-billsgf

[liminalpebble]

Hi, lovely! 💕 I’d like to request a drabble featuring Magnus. Perhaps a smutty one? I’ll leave all the details up to you.

(You cannot convince me that boy isn’t a freak! He’s likely got some tricks that would make even Blanche Devereaux herself blush.)

Hello my love! Thank you for being a friend!

By sheer luck I did a raunchy as fuck Magnus fic not too long ago based on a brilliant prompt from @muddyorbs.

Her request was to put Magnus and OFC on a mission together and he finds a little vibe in her suitcase and things get spicy. It's a very hostile fucky situation and I imagine our girl as a Lisbeth Salander type because my queer little heart is in love with her too. Anyway, I hope this pleases your inner Blanche as you reach for the cheesecake.

Much love, '

Peb

Magnus Martinsson fanfic, Magnus Martinsson x OFC, smut!, one shot, enemies to lovers (well...fuckers?), hostile but very consensual fucking, Minors DNI

Word count: about 3000 (sorry...bit of a honker. Worth it. I promise).

--

Bullets

Mara rolled her black-lined eyes when the call from Wallander came in. “Mara, are you still freelancing? We really need a tech wizard on this one.”

“Cute euphemism, Kurt...points for flattery. You need a hacker who will do the dirty work so your little lapdog techie can keep his hands clean while micromanaging me.”

Wallander sighed, and quipped sarcastically, “Why, yes, Mara, I'm doing very well, thanks. How are you today? Still your charming self, I see. By the way, you're on speaker. ” He looked across the conference table to where Martinsson (said lapdog techie) was glaring at his superior for putting him in this situation yet again.

Mara's eyes scanned around her tiny apartment full of computer equipment and old band tee shirts piled in an ever-increasing mound of black cotton. In her own mind, she'd named it Mount Doom. “Oh you know, Kurt, living that rich girl high life,” she replied in a prickly tone, toking on the remains of a joint from the night before. “And whose fault is it that I'm on speaker, hm? Really. You should know better by now.” She blew smoke out in a resigned exhale, “Alright Wallander, tell that minion of yours I'm in. I'm sure he'll be delighted.”

Kurt raised his voice. “His name is Magnus, or Detective Martinsson and I'd appreciate it if you stop calling him 'lapdog' or 'minion' especially to his face as you seem rather fond of doing...”

“Alright Kurt, see you tomorrow,” she said interrupting his lecture to end the conversation.

“Charming,” Magnus groaned.

--------

“The same room?” Mara said, with an air of annoyance, hauling her bags up the hill to the rundown Motorlodge.

Martinsson sighed and said with an edge of frustration, “Yes Mara, the same room. We can't work together from different rooms.”

“Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, minion! I know that, but I thought that at least when we're taking shifts we'd have our own space to rest. It could be days! It would have been nice if the police department had sprung at least for adjoining rooms. I'd even tolerate sharing a bathroom with you if...”

Magnus stopped in his tracks, putting a hand up so she nearly stumbled directly into him. “Can you please, please not do this? I'm just here to do my job, just like you are. Can we try not to be at each other's throats?” As he said it she couldn't help looking at his throat, that pretty pale neck and sharp jawline she'd love to suck on and bite and make him moan while...

“Mara!” he barked, snapping her out of her lurid daydream.

“Okay...fucking hell. Okay,” she said, shouldering past him to enter the little 70's time capsule of a room. He fortified himself with a deep breath, stepping into her wake.

-----

“Well,” she said, between sips from the paper cup, “At least the Bates Motel has a pretty decent coffee machine.”

They both laughed and smiled to each other, faces bathed in the blue glow of computer screens; a rare truce. They had set up efficiently, both very good at their jobs and surprisingly good at working together despite the personality clashes.

“See?”

“See what?” Mara asked, sitting forward to scan the screen.

Magnus put a finger on her chin to turn her face towards him instead. “See how nice it can be when we actually just have a pleasant cup of coffee together and work?”, he elaborated. It was adorable, she had to admit...those big innocent blue eyes and golden curls making him look like a particularly naive, hopeful and, possibly stupid, angel. But from his work and credentials, she knew he was far from idiotic; just sweet, gullible, optimistic. And as he was staring at her with that sweet dumb incredibly handsome face, it just made her inexplicably angry, like his kindness was some kind of trick.

She shrugged, and took a sip to avoid looking at him, then stated, “Their hard drives will take hours to clone. It's a waiting game for now.” She yawned and cracked her knuckles, stretching up from the uncomfortable chair to flop onto the tacky paisley comforter. A sliver of orange glow from the setting sun slid between the heavy curtains, illuminating her body, and Magnus couldn't help but notice that like that, in this wash of golden hour light, she really was very pretty. Yet, for some inexplicable reason Mara seemed almost determined not to be, with her prickly personality and tent-like clothes hiding her rather nice curves. What a shame he thought.

Magnus took the opportunity to move too, rising to his feet and stretching his long arms over his head. Mara peeked at him with one surreptitiously open eye to drink in the sharp dips and muscle of his lower belly and hips as his shirt raised, ever so slightly, to show skin. Why does he have to have the body of a fucking Greek god? Jesus Christ. Eyes wondering south, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rather generous outline in his pants, she saw where his service revolver was strapped to him in a shocking interruption of black metal and leather. It didn't suit such a soft, posh, pretty boy to be toting around a gun like some cowboy. Having come from a wealthy suburb, Martinsson could never understand the grip of fear firearms held on poor neighborhoods like hers. She didn't like guns, and she didn't like the criminals or the cops who didn't seem to mind using them liberally in her childhood neighborhood while everyone else was caught in the crossfire.

“Do you have to wear that thing?” Mara asked, gesturing to the holster. “It's only me. I'm like a foot shorter than you and you could probably kill me with your bare hands if you wanted. Are there bullets in it now?”

Magnus turned to her, eyes soft and considerate. “Well, yes. It's part of the job. We have to wear them at all times on the clock and they have to be loaded. And it's not you I'm afraid of, Mara,” he said, sitting beside her on the bed, looking at his hands. “It's you I need to be ready to protect if things go south.”

Mara turned to perch on her elbow and look up at him, genuinely swooning for a second before she recovered hastily, coating it with sarcasm. “Awww...my hero. This is why they call you The Prince Charming of Ystad? And I know damn well you're afraid of me.”

“Not afraid...annoyed. Are you allergic to having a single genuine moment of humanity between us? What have I ever done to you?” he huffed sounding wounded, and standing up again to pace.

She groaned, standing up to face him, admitting to herself that she had been especially hard on him, and she couldn't even be entirely sure why (or at least, she wouldn't admit why, not even to herself). “Look, Magnus, I'm sorry, really.”

“Really?” he said cautiously, distrustful and surprised.

“Yeah..yeah, really. I've been such a bitch to you.”

As Magnus spotted the unprecedented chink in her armor, it set off the explosion of a tirade. It finally released itself from his mouth after brewing for months and he was powerless to stop it. “Listen. I don't know why you're like this, Mara, really I don't. I haven't done a bloody thing to deserve this, neither has Kurt.”

Mara felt a little fizzle of fear at the mounting growl in his voice, and she felt a little ashamed, but also aroused. It was deeply confusing.

“I wasn't socialized enough as a puppy. Why the fuck do you think, pretty boy? You're cops. I don't like cops. I don't like what you stand for...your mindless conformity...”

Magnus' voice rose, “Did it occur to you that some of them, Kurt and I for example, chose this life to protect people? Because we care about people, even people like you who hate us. And I'm not saying you don't have a good reason to hate the police, but you don't have to hate us. We're on your bloody side. And...and you think you're so clever and rebellious with your bitch act and your black hair dye....and and...your edgy jewelry,” he continued, reaching down to her open bag where there was an unusual silver necklace, with a heavy bullet for a pendant. He lifted it saying, “Oh so you don't like guns and bullets, but you'll wear them to look oh so cool and fashionable? What a fucking hypocrite...”

Mara was thunderstruck (and frankly excited) by his anger but the end of his little speech made her want to laugh hysterically. He had no idea that what he was holding was a state-of-the-art vibrator, beautifully designed to multitask as a piece of jewelry styled after an actual bullet. She thwarted her chuckle to say simply, “Please put that back. It was expensive.”

Magnus blinked in confusion, as if slapped by her unexpected response. As he moved to put it back, one of his long fingers fumbled around it, accidentally pressing a hidden button. As he dropped it back on top of her bag of toiletries, it began to buzz. The detective narrowed his eyes, mouth agape as the gears turned in his lovely head. “Is...is your necklace...vibrating. Holy shit...is that a...”. His broad Cheshire cat smile unfurled across his face, as he began to chuckled in long breathy laughs.

Now it was her turn to be angry...not to mention mortified. She darted her hand out to switch it off, crossed her arms, and stormed to the other side of the room. “Oh this is rich,” he purred out in his deep delicious voice. “Why did you bring that? And when on earth did you expect to have the time and privacy to use it?”

She yelled, “That's none of your business! And I thought we'd have separate rooms.”

He moved closer, now standing directly in front of her. She felt that looking into his bright eyes might sear her like a laser, so she settled for looking forward at his chest. Then his long soft fingers, tucked themselves under her chin, raising her eyes to his, as he asked in a deep intimidating voice, “Mara, why did you really bring that with you?”

Fuck. She could see why he was so good at interrogations. This is the kind of man it was no use lying to. She sputtered, “Be...because I know it might be a few days and...”

“And?” he prompted, taking a step closer.

She fumbled nervously, “And...and...because I knew I'd be trapped with you strutting around with your perfect fucking body and your pretty fucking face and your sweet fucking disposition, and I'd have to take care of myself if I wanted to think straight...okay?”

His smile dropped even as the heat of excitement coursed through his body. Magnus could see she was flustered, defenses down, nearly to the point of tears. Finally it occurred to him; so this is why she was so mean, so prickly and defensive towards him... because she liked him so much. She was harboring a hopeless school girl crush and assumed all of his kindness towards her...his goodness...was some kind of joke to mock her. She ignored the reality that he paid attention to her because he liked her too. She excited and intrigued him, but that all turned to bitter frustration that she would never let him near her. He just kept encountering all that barbed wire around her and finally quit trying to breach it...until now.

“Mara,” he said her name reverently like a prayer, in a low gentle whisper, full of empathy and kindness. He moved his hand from where it still was propped under her chin, to cradle her face. Neither of them could say who moved first as they crashed together, but before they knew it they were latched onto each other's hot mouths, kissing, licking, biting, barely able to breathe and neither of them minded.

He moved to her neck, sucking it hungrily then growled into her ear, “You think that little gadget could hold a fucking candle to me?”. She moaned in response, sliding her shaking fingers to begin unbuttoning his shirt while he worked at his pants and his holster. He was peeled out in moments, looking absolutely mouthwatering in nothing but his underwear. Mara tore her shirt and bra off over her head, then pressed the swell of her breasts against his firm torso, while her lips rejoined his. Her leg swung around his waist as she licked up his throat, bit his earlobe playfully and said, “Pull my hair. Call me a bitch again...”

He was panting as he said, “I...didn't call you a bitch...I said it was a 'bitch act'...”.

She gathered his curls between her fingers and tugged while she bit at his lovely throat, drawing a nearly-pornographic moan from the young cop. “I said, call me a bitch, you pedant.”

It was adorable, how he struggled to get the word out. He was the type of well-bred man who had trouble calling a woman anything other than “Miss”, which made it even hotter when his eyes darkened and his mouth twisted as he growled out, “You delicious bitch” and wrapped his big hand around her ponytail, yanking sharply. She was grinding against he thick erection, teasing him, desperate for him, until he stopped her with a bruising grip on her hips and met her eyes. “You called me a lapdog, huh? Well, there's only one lap I'm interested in being in,” he said in a velvety purr as he tugged her pants and panties off of her, pushing her onto the bed completely naked, as he snaked between her legs, biting and sucking ravenously at the soft flesh of her inner thighs, breath ghosting against her soaked pussy. She wove her fingers into his hair with surprising gentleness as she sighed and writhed while he kissed his way up.

When he licked the first firm line up her slit she arched her back and gasped out, “Holy fuck,” while he chuckled against her skin and she could feel his smile.

“Mmmm...you're even more delicious than I imagined,” he confessed, and the idea of him jacking off, thinking about this only aroused her more.

He began to suck delicately on her clit and swirl his tongue, bringing her close to the brink in mere moments. She lifted his head gently and said, “Wait...wait.”

His big, bright eyes met hers, solicitous and concerned as he panted out, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...yeah amazing,” she said, smiling, “I just want to come on your cock. I want to feel you inside.”

“Oh darling...” he purred as he crawled farther up the bed to kiss her, sharing her own taste with her. He stood up for a moment to slide his boxers off, revealing his cock (which was just as gorgeous as the rest of him), stroking it lightly in one big hand. “Jesus Christ,” she gasped when she saw it, big and flushed with a tantalizing drip of precum. She crawled over to him and taking it into her mouth hastily, dying to savor it. He groaned in ecstatic surprise at the feeling of her hot mouth around him, her clever tongue caressing the hard length. He combed his hand through her hair, chuckling softly, teasing, “eager, are we darling?”

“Shut up and fuck me you cocky little shit,” she barked out playfully, making them both smile. “Prove to me that that little trinket will never satisfy me again, detective.”

He pinned her on her back, caging her between his strong arms, “Cocky, yes....little...well, my dear, I think we both know that's just a bit inaccurate.” His tone changed as he settled between her legs, and his hand stroked her cheek gently. He asked, “You're okay? This is okay?”

“Yes...please...just go in slowly?”

He nodded.

Magnus eased in gently, as they both gasped at the decadent feeling of his cock inside her slick, warm walls, adjusting to each other. “Mmmm. God...yes,” she purred, stroking his sharp cheekbone with her soft little hand. Meeting his eyes she said, “Magnus?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Now, please, fuck me like a whore.”

It rough and relentless as Magnus drove into her again and again while her legs clamped tight around him, calves bouncing on the muscular curve of his ass as he moved. The wave of both of their orgasms crashed quickly and simultaneously as they rode it out, making a mess of the old duvet, and collapsing naked against each other, spent and smiling. Mara massaged Mangus' head as he rested it against her breasts. He trailed little pecks along the soft skin, sighing contentedly. She peeked over his lovely golden fleece to see where the blue-glowing monitors were still reporting their downloads in progress with lots of time to go. Idly she said, “Looks like this is going to take longer than we thought.”

“Oh no, whatever shall we do in the meantime,” Magnus chimed in from where he had begun lapping his tongue over her tits, as they both laughed in an all encompassing high of relief.

@smolvenger @goblingirlsarah I can't think who else might like this one, but feel free to share!

[hannie-dul-set]

hah love life.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For Kauri and Chris: it doesn't work as well as you hoped, does it?

(follows Time Apart)

CW: Former pet whumpee, past noncon references, fucky headspace around consent and SERIOUSLY misconstrued response to assault, some hardcore angst going on here, internalized victim-blaming

Chris feels fingers move through his hair, gently sweeping the shaggy copper to one side, and opens his eyes to see Kauri leaning over him. His wide blue eyes are warm, understanding.

"I saw Laken leave," Kauri says, gentle, and sits next to where Chris has curled up on his side on his bed. His fingers continue to run through Chris's hair, tingling over his scalp, a soft and subtle reassurance, words he doesn't have to hear. You are good, you are a good boy. "You want to tell me what happened?"

Chris closes his eyes again, turning his face to his sheets, to the faint scent of laundry detergent and the soft rustle of them against his skin. He tries not to see Laken's face, reddened and wet with tears, as they walked away. "We, we broke up."

Kauri's fingers pause - and then start up again, the moment so barely-there that even Chris almost misses it. "You broke up? Did they break up with you, or you with them?"

"Um. I, I, I thought they broke up with, um, with with me but then when they came over, they hadn't? But we just-... I, I broke... I broke up with them." His voice trembles, throat threatening to close up around the words, and he exhales, rocking himself forward and back where he lays, rubbing his hands reflexively over the seams of his pants, seeking out the soothing feeling of the texture there. "I told them I, I, I can't be with them anymore. I made them go."

This can't be the end, Chris. Not like this. Laken looked like he'd slapped them, their face pale and red both at once, eyes wide, dark pools demanding he take it back. This can't be the end of the line for us.

Then, then, then what is? Just, just go. I don't-... I don't, don't, don't want this any longer, for you. You shouldn't-... I, I, I'm... just go home, Laken. You shouldn't, shouldn't have, have wanted a whore anyway.

Chris. You know you're not-

I know I am! I, I, I almost had-... I almost-... I almost cheated on you last night!

Laken had swallowed, lips barely moving. You what?

I let, I, I, I let someone touch me, and it felt good, you know? It felt good. I, I, I got-... I, I got turned on by it. Like a fucking- He'd heard Handler Petrus in his mind, felt him against his back, the weight and heat of him, whispering into his ear while he sobbed. I'm still just a fucking slut. I'm, I'm, I'm still what I was, and it won't ever stop and-... just fucking go, Laken! Just get out and, and, and and and and-... and, and-

Chris, please-

Just fucking go home!

Chris-... baby, god damn it, I don't care if you-

But I do! Get the fuck away from me!

They'd left. Chris had listened to their footsteps running down the stairs and out the door, heard their car pull out of the driveway, and he'd cried into his pillow until it was damp, until he couldn't hear their car any longer. His phone buzzed twice, a text from Ben and another one from Akio, but he didn't answer.

He didn't answer when they called after that.

He didn't answer Jake calling to him from downstairs, he didn't answer Antoni in the doorway, he didn't answer any of them at all. He just stayed right here, on his bed, and knocked his head into a pillow he held against the wall until he calmed down enough to stop.

And then he cried more.

His head pounds, a dull throb, and he feels dried out from all the tears. Like he'd been crusted with salt, like his professor who told the story about Lot's wife and Orpheus and Eurydice. Don't look back or you'll turn to salt, you'll go back down into the empty places alone.

He can't not look back.

He groans, smacking himself on the thighs reflexively, repeatedly, as if he can stop his thoughts that way.

Kauri doesn't try to stop him, only pulls his hand back to give Chris the space to move. "Did you want to break up with them?" He asks, simply. His voice is calm.

"No. Yes. I, I don't know." The seams of his pants aren't enough, and Chris breathes against the sense of a chaos inside of himself, a swirling mix of self-hatred and grief. His hands move up to tap on his stomach. Finger-twist-tap-tap-tap. It doesn't help as much as he needs it to. "I didn't... want them to, to, to have to be with me."

"I think Laken is capable of making that choice for themself." Kauri sits slowly back against the headboard, breathing out, his eyes moving over the messy contents of the bedroom. The pictures Chris has taped haphazardly up on the walls, the shelf with his stim toys on it, his computer on the desk half-buried in a pile of clean clothes he hasn't folded. "If they want to be with you, that's their decision. Do you want to be with them?"

Chris wants to say yes, but the word sticks in his throat. His heart pounds inside him, all out of rhythm. He just nods against his sheets, and feels Kauri brush fingers through his hair again. "But, but, but, but I'm, I'm not worth it, I'm t-too hard, I'm still a, a, a pet too much."

There's a silence. Then, "Is that what you really think?"

He'd love to be able to say no. He'd love to be able to say he's being dramatic. But instead, in a small, soft voice, Chris whispers, "I just. I just. I, I, I don't know a-any-anymore. I... Yes."

Kauri is quiet, and then his hands are on Chris's face, wiping away with his thumb a tear Chris hadn't even realized had escaped. Chris had flinched from the same gesture when Laken did it, but he holds for Kauri.

"Oh, honey. I used to think that, too." Kauri sighs, and Chris opens his eyes, looking up at him, seeing a faraway expression.

He shifts, moving to rest his head on Kauri's thigh, a silent request for the petting through his hair to begin again.

Kauri smiles, a little faintly, a little sad. His fingers move over Chris's scalp, settle over the top of his scar, start again. "I did that for years, Chris. I told myself I was a pet, just another Romantic, that I deserved everything I did to myself and I didn't deserve anything better. I woke up in alleyways and on park benches and sometimes in the beds of guys I couldn't remember meeting. I got... I got hurt by some of them, and I told myself it was what I wanted. I got drugged a few times, I drugged myself a bunch more. I tried to make myself not want to be cared about anymore."

Chris thinks about the taste of gin and olives down his throat, throwing back dirty martinis until he threw them back up again, until he couldn't stop hearing Sir's voice inside his head, feeling his lips against the back of his neck. Hands on his hips, phantom ghost touch, moving him into position.

"It... didn't work as well as I'd hoped. Every time I told myself I didn't deserve love, even when I believed it... that didn't mean I didn't still want it. Need it, even. But I wanted, so badly-..." Kauri's voice catches, and his eyes close, briefly, as he steadies himself. "I wanted to make sure everyone around me hated me as much as I hated myself. But God, Chris, it hurts so much to live that way. Don't... don't be like me. It took me years to realize I didn't deserve that pain, that I didn't deserve to be punished for leaving Owen."

Chris is silent, now. Kauri's voice is always almost hypnotizing, deep and a little melodic, and it settles some of the buzzing awful noise inside of him.

"I had to learn-... to accept... that what happened to me makes up a lot of who I am, because it was the thing that made me, but it isn't all of who I am. And if I keep repeating the patterns I came up with to protect myself... I'm not really protecting myself at all." Kauri smiles, a little. "I'm only laying siege to myself, and I'm the only one who starves inside the walls. I-... I built those walls, and Jake kept trying to knock them down, and I kept building them higher. And Nat would throw food over the wall, and I'd throw it back. And... I think I got a little off track. My point is that... is that I shattered myself, over and over again, because shattered is what I was taught to be. But eventually I had to admit that breaking myself into pieces was just cutting me up, not anyone else. Do you understand?"

Chris swallows, his throat opening a little bit, and he hums. Kauri's leg is warm against his ear and his cheek, his hand is warm over his hair. Chris grips onto the silicone feather he wears always on a cord around his neck and runs it over his lips, feeling the carved vanes move against thin, sensitive skin. "Kind of."

"You try to see the light in everything," Kauri says, and the love in his voice makes Chris smile despite all his pain. "That's always been what made you stronger than me, Chris. You saw the world as full of good things you were here to discover. You never hated yourself like I did. I don't want you to start now."

"How... how did you, um, did you learn to to to stop?"

Another long exhale. Outside, two birds are singing in the trees. "Time, mostly," Kauri says, finally. "And... that guy I went home with once, when I came back all... fucked up. Remember that?"

"Y, yeah."

"I realized... I realized, when Jake was helping me up the stairs, that every time I tried to push him away, he was still there. And every time I hurt him, or Nat, or Antoni, they were still there. And that you were-... you were so new, Chris, and I was teaching you this really awful idea that you can't get better, and I couldn't do that any longer. I couldn't. It's not instant, and there are backslides, and some days getting out of bed is the hardest thing I've ever done. But I do, because I love the life I've made, and I know you love yours. You worked so hard for this, Chris, for everything you are and you've done since you came to live with Nat. Don't give that up because... because you're struggling. Don't let them win by convincing you you can't be anything else."

"I'm so-... it feels like a shell," Chris says, and pushes himself up to sitting, legs out to one side, tucking his head into the crook of Kauri's neck. The older man's arms move around his waist, holding him close, one hand moving up to keep stroking through his hair as he bites down on the feather, chewing on the familiar plastic. "Like I, I, I built a shell, and when Nova-... it cracked."

"Yeah. I know how that feels." Kauri turns his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Chris's hair, easy and comfortable. Chris hums around his feather, rocking just a little. The rising tide of grief inside him threatens to become a wave he can't withstand. He pushed Laken away, too far away, he made them leave him.

He broke up with them.

He made them go.

He can't take that back.

"Listen to me," Kauri whispers, lips against his scalp. "When I was at my lowest, when I hated myself the most, when I demanded Jake abandon me to what I kept telling myself I wanted... he didn't. He was still there. He was still there, and even if we weren't going to be together, he was still willing to help me stand up as a friend. When I was nothing but pieces drawing blood, he still loved me. He loved the pieces as much as the person, and he helped me put myself back together. It's not perfect. It's not overnight. And you'll still have hard days. But it's worth it, Chris."

"Why? Why, why, why is it worth it?"

"Because the world is beautiful," Kauri says, repeating his own long-ago words back to him, and Chris almost smiles. "Because I love the world, now, Chris, and I decided to try as hard as I can to love myself. I learned that from you."

"What if-... what if, if, if it's too late? What if I can't t-talk to them, or-"

"Then we'll stand you back up from there, and start moving forward again. You'll never lose us, we're family, Chris. But I think you should talk to Laken, and tell them what you're feeling, and let them decide how to react instead of deciding for them. They love you." Kauri puts a hand under his chin and lifts it, so their eyes meet. "Let them love you hurting just as much as they do when you're not."

"What if I don't... want to try any longer?"

"Then we'll be here to help you through that, too. All of it. Any of it. For better or worse, Chris, I'm your big brother - and so is Jake, and so is Antoni - and you're stuck with us whether you like it or not."

Chris tucks his head back down so Kauri can't see the tears well back up and run down, even as they soak into his shirt. His teeth grind down on the silicone plastic between them.

"I, I, I fucked up, Kauri," he whimpers, and then starts to sob. "I didn't-... I, I, I just don't w-want to be in m-my body anymore..."

Kauri holds him close.

"I h-hate it, I hate it, I hate it," Chris wails, and Kauri rests his chin on Chris's head and lets him cry. "I hate being p-pretty, I hate my, my, my, I hate that they made my body like this, I hate that I g-get scared and and and, and, and I can't stop things from happening to me, I h-hate that I hurt Laken, I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it!"

"I know," Kauri whispers. "I know, honey. I know."

"I h-hate myself-"

"Sssshhhh, I know."

Chris doesn't know how long he cries for.

But eventually he falls asleep in Kauri's arms.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

Playlist for this piece:

Lewis Capaldi: Hold Me While You Wait Rob Thomas: Pieces Vienna Teng: Between Aerelie Brighton: Breathe Josh Ritter: Girl in the War Beth Crowley: Runaway Train

[fishmongeringstudies]

scene two, aka whatever is left of this air conditioning unit

this evening i microwaved my first cup of kraft instant mac and cheese. the print on the side said to stick it in the microwave for three and a half minutes and then add in the cheese and stir vigorously, so that's what i did, but when i took it out there was a frothy boiling mess on the glass plate and an ungodly amount of water left in the cup so i poured out half of the water and added the cheese and 'stirred vigorously' and the whole thing tasted kind of like if you tried to describe the experience of going on a rollercoaster to someone whose only experience with transport is a horse-drawn cart, by which i mean it wasn't terrible, because terrible implies that an effort was made to be good. it is my humble belief that kraft instant mac and cheese has never aspired towards anything.

this morning i woke up sweating. the rooms in this dorm don't have a/c, but at least they have me. unfortunately they are likely to not have me too very soon, precisely because they don't have a/c. in hot weather a/c and i imply each other like a pair of lovers in a horrible codependent relationship that starts out on the best possible foot and starts to worry their friends and family when both of them go missing for three weeks at a time and are found in some dingy motel next to the movie theater drinking dorito-infused sprite while marathoning old animated barbie movies and eventually ends with one party riding off into the sunset on a stolen e-scooter and the other one becoming a fitness influencer on instagram. instagram is useful for some things like stalking people you might want to kidnap and stick in your basement for a few days and contacting friends who have progressed past the need for neanderthal-style text messaging. fitness influencers are not one of those things.

did you know? there were a hundred and forty-four freshmen on campus this spring. according to the corny welcome to the class of 2024 post on the admissions blog, there are three hundred and seventy-three of us in total. i stuck the numbers in the calculator app because i have progressed past the need for neanderthal-style quick math; that's thirty-eight percent. did you know? i've been a college student for a year now, and i've only met thirty-eight percent of my own class.

not to be dramatic, but i'm aggressively stirring another cup of kraft instant mac and cheese right now. not to be dramatic but i've stuck a body in your basement. it's a promise ring. what am i promising? i'm promising i'll come see you.

i think if i get a car i will feel like a real american. of course i will never be a real american because 1) i spent eighteen years living in singapore and 2) i have the spiritual capacity of a well-endowed british opera singer and 3) i don't actually want to be one but the idea has its appeals, like pretending you're part of a group with an identity that isn't an obscure gender alignment (chicken) you came up with on the fly (see? chicken). improvisation has always been my strong suit (for my january term class we had to post self-intros on moodle and for my interesting skill i said i was good at improvisational running. someone commented asking me what improvisational running was. i said i could start running at very unexpected times of the day, like in the lunch line or in the middle of an x-ray examination or while i'm brushing my teeth. this spring i've proven myself to be everything, it turns out, but a liar). forgetting where i started a sentence is also my strong suit. confrontation is not my strong suit.

maybe i should learn to drive. but who is going to teach me? every day we stray further from god, like little bath toys stuck in the pacific ocean getting fucked up by the dolphins, who have gotten bored with the lack of traffic recently and have decided to start their own acting troupe. i am writing this under the impression that there are dolphins in the pacific ocean. if i am wrong please do not correct me. ignorance is bliss. blocking the numbers of people who have set fire to your proverbial house (you live in a dorm room, after all, which doesn't count as a real place to come back to) in various interesting ways without meaning to is also bliss.

the mac and cheese was terrible. but all things are the first time you try them. like how your first novel is three pages long in papyrus font size fifteen on a word document your mom unearths a decade later when she's cleaning the hard drive on your computer. like how the first time you go to target by yourself you pin the wrong target on google maps and end up walking beside a highway getting blasted by fumes for half a mile instead of taking a nice cottagecore jaunt through the bougie neighborhood your school is located in. like how your first semester of college is this huge fucky clusterfuck of absolute horsefuckery that's so bad, even your older friends who've already done undergrad and grad school and passed out in a dumpster behind a denny's a few times in their lifetime are kind of impressed with you.

my first semester of college was a three hour dark souls speedrun. now we're stopping to enjoy the scenery. and what wonderful scenery it is! actually it's very bad. summer is boring because it reminds me of home and the geographical location of home is not itself very bad but i was very depressed for a while so the psychological associations will take a while to unlearn, like maybe five months or five decades. that's fine. i didn't come to america to get away from the monster under the bed. i am the monster. and now i am in america the world is the bed and did you know? i'm pretty tall. so it's fine. i'll break this bedframe. i'll shatter it to pieces.

05.22.21

[a-pretty-nerd]

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!Daughter!Reader

Chapter 6

Premise:

When The League of Villians discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you're in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

Word Count: 1,988

Trigger Warnings: None really, homelessness? 

A/N: Shit! This chapters later than I wanted it to be! Since I've been back to work my schedule has been all fucky. Usually I try to post every friday but...lol. Anyways, If you like my work, don't be afraid to interact! I love hearing from you guys! Also check out my Wattpad for my original works, and my Patreon if you wanna support me further!

Enjoy!

Chapter 5 Chapter 7 

Toshinori watched from the doorway of what he once called home. He watched men in police uniforms, suits and ties, and underground heroes, rush through the apartment. Now living exclusively on campus, the apartment felt like a grim reminder of your absence. Your mother and Xavier poured over pages upon pages of eyewitnesses and anything else that could give them a clue.

Unlike the last time the heroes found and raided The League, there were no signs of known members. Meaning they were either being more careful, or they were no longer in Musutafu. He shuffled into the room, sitting down on the couch and looking outside to large windows onto the city below. Suddenly, the phone rang.

Everyone froze. Heads swiftly turned. Was this news of your disappearance? Had you been found? Detective Tsukauchi was the first to move. Slowly picking the receiver, and placing it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, yes, who is this?" A scratchy voice asked.

"I am Detective Tsukauchi. Who am I speaking with?" His voice was firm and demanding. A dark chuckle came from the other end, sending a chill down the poor mansion spine.

"I think you know who I am, detective." Another laugh rattled from Shigaraki's chest. You watched him from the other line. Everyone sitting patiently around him as they watched him on the phone. You sat beside him, hands placed on either side of you on the couch. Anxiously waiting for your turn.

"Can I-"

"Shh." He hushed you gently, putting a finger to his lips before they broke into a wide smile.

"You see I just called because someone here has a little message for you. It's family business you see, would All Might be available to talk?" He pulled the phone away before letting loose another laugh. The room jumped and coiled in uncontrollable laughter. Like a group of kids making a prank phone call.

"Shigaraki...I swear if you lay a finger on her I'll-"

"Hold on one sec, she's right here. Y/N?" He pulled his attention away from the phone and smiled at you as he handed it over. You took it and gently pressed it to your ear.

"....Dad?"

"Y/N! Are you alright? Have they hurt you?"

"No...No I'm fine actually." Shigaraki watched you with a clever smile stretched across his face. He leaned back against the couch, resting his head in his hand. Clearly very proud of himself and the torment he caused.

"Where are you?"

"I don't know actually. It's like a repurposed office building I think. I don't know where it is, all the windows are boarded up. They brought me by car."

"By car?”

"Yeah, I don't really know what they're up to. I mean, I do, I just... I don't know they do things weird." Shigaraki's smile slowly started to fade as you critiqued. When you looked up and saw his expression, you felt compelled to respond. "What? You do." You told him. He shrugged you off.

"You sound...alright." Your father said, confused and concerned.

"I guess I am relatively okay. They feed me and clothe me and no ones been really that bad to me yet so...I'm okay I guess."

"She's lying!" You heard a voice chirp from the other line. Your stomach turned. Xavier was there?

"Y/N! Y/N tell us where you are!" Your mother demanded as she wrenched the phone away from your father. Her voice was jarring and rough. You tensed up.

"I...I don't know where I am. I told him it’s like an old office building I-"

"Can you tell us anything else? What do you remember from the car ride?" She was frantic now.

"Nothing. I had a bag over my head the whole time. This place has some electricity and some running water but it’s not to the whole building? It's old... it's been years since anyone has been here-"

"Anything else!?" She cried. You paused.

"No...I...I'm fine otherwise." Shigaraki made a 'speed it up' motion with his hand. "I...I have a message for Detective Tsukauchi, could you put him back on?"

"Let me talk to her!" Xavier begged.

"I don't have much time, please, Detective-"

"Y/N! Baby!" You cringed at the sound of your boyfriend’s panicked voice.

"Hey, babe. I'm fine." You tried to brush him off.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"I'm alright, I guess. A little tired. Scared." You had to remember the last part.

"I can't imagine what you're going through without your meds."

"Oh. Yeah. My meds. I'm losing my mind." You said in a flat, sarcastic tone. It made the others snicker.

"Just remember your breathing exercises we did, okay? Do them with me now, okay? You ready?"

"Yeah-uh-"

"One, two, three, in.........out. Okay? One, two, three IN! . . . . . . . . OUT! One, two, three, in . . . . . . OUT! Okay? Do them with me. Remember to align your chakras!" He went on like this for a solid minute. Unable to contain yourself, you covered your mouth with your hand and held the speaker out so the whole room could laugh at him. Even Shigaraki, who turned away to laugh joined in on the fun. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You smiled through.

"We're coming to get you, alright? Just hang tight a little longer."

"Uhuh."

"Don't worry, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you, sugar muffin."

"Right. So Detective Tsukauchi."

"Okay, yes, here he is...I love you!"

"Love you too." You chuckled, your hand playing with the flesh between your brow as you laughed at him.

"Y/N." Finally.

"I just, have a message from the villains." You told him with an awkward smile.

"Go ahead." You looked up at your captor.

"They say if All Might doesn't come forward soon, they won't be giving me back." You watched his smile widen. "They want the world to know the Heroes' failures. It's either me or the truth. Your choice." And with that, you hung up the phone. The room fell into a satisfied and relaxed state. A sense of victory went around the room as smiles and giggles greeted you. 

"Who the hell was that last guy!?" Toga shouted as she laughed.

"Oh, that was Xavier, my boyfriend."

"Ooh! Boyfriend! How Sweet!-Gross!" Twice added.

"You've never mentioned a partner before, Y/N." Mr. Compresss added. You shrugged.

"I guess I forgot. Being kidnapped and all."

"You've been pretty forgetful latley haven't you? First your meds, now this. Anything else you care to share with us?" Dabi questioned.

"Not that I can think of. I guess sometimes I forget I should be scared nowadays." You paused before turning to look back at Shigaraki who wore a satisfied grin as his eyes wandered around the floor. Clearly dissociating. “Shigaraki?” 

"Hm?"

"...what happens to me, if they don't comply?"

"They will."

"Are you going to kill me?" He rolled his eyes.

"No. I'm not going to kill you. Especially now with that quirk of yours."

"But-"

"Are you really questioning why I'm not going to kill you?" He took the phone in his hand and dusted the object. He stood and started walking out to another room.

"I just...aren’t I a pain in the ass to keep around?" You asked the room. A few answered with a nod, others stayed silent.

"Come on. I wanna show you something." You stood and followed him down the hallway. You followed him through the building, through the parts that were inhabitable and rotting. He took you up a few flights, up to the very top just before the roof. There was a large room filled with old desks, chairs, computers, etc. He stopped in front of a large window that overlooked the city. "Come here." You stood beside him and looked out the window at the people walking around. You saw an old alleyway that housed a few homeless people as they went about their day. A few passers-by ignoring them and rushing past. "What do you see?"

"A group of homeless people. Why?"

"And what about him?" You watched as a man, well dressed and well-kept walked down the street. He starred at a man who begged him for money, then laughed in his face before walking away.

"Some asshole." You noted. He smiled.

"The world is littered with them. And it’s the heroes that encourage it, they demand it. They created a world where we steal and rob and ignore each other assuming someone else will take care of it. Heroes created a society that requires you to assimilate, to obey. If not, you're thrown away like trash." He grumbled as he watched the homeless man. 

"Is that...what happened to you?" You asked. He didn't answer. "What about her?" You watched as a woman passing through stopped to give the homeless man some change.

"What? You think she deserves a pat on the back for the bare minimum?" He snarled.

"Huh?"

"What good does that one act do, huh!? He'll have a meal and live to see another miserable day. She solved a minor problem, she's not doing any real good. And she doesn't deserve anything for it."

"But-"

"It doesn't matter unless you do something to change the bigger picture. She can give all the change she wants, take him in for all I care. But she only helps one person! She won't do any real good unless she demands change for them! Unless she actively works to make sure people like him don't end up like that!" You took a few steps back as he yelled.

"Alright! You don't have to yell at me!" You barked, the tension in the room coming to a climax when your quirk pulled a few chairs and tables closer to you. Making a horrible screeching sound as it did. "I understand." You finally spoke when the two of you had calmed down.

"If All Might doesn't come forward and tell the truth, you'll be working with us."

"What? Why? My quirk is dangerous and volatile. I have no control, I'd be practically useless."

"That's why your training starts today."

"Training?"

"What? You wanna be a slave to your quirk forever? Because if you wanna go back on your meds, you can. But I doubt you want to keep living in fear of yourself." You thought for a second before answering.

"I...I don't know..." He slowly started to approach you.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore. I can help you."

"How? You hardly have control of your own emotions as it is. You think you could help teach me to control mine?" You chuckled.

"If my research is right, this isn't about control, it’s about distribution."

"Distribution..."

"If you could learn to express your emotions properly. Let yourself be free from the fear of your own quirk, you could learn to repurpose that energy, and gain anatomy."

"Those disgusting bastards!" Xavier growled under his breath as his nails dug into the sleeve of his button-up. He rattled with rage in the corner as others worked. Your mother paced back and forth, spewing theory after theory.

"She sounded...fine..." Toshinori said in disbelief.

"Clearly she's traumatized beyond repair!" Your mother declared.

"Everyone." Another detective called. The room fell silent. "I think you should hear this." Pressing play, the sound of your recorded voice played out.

"In......OUT! One, two, three, IN.........out." From the other line, the sound of soft snickering and laughter could be heard. Your laughs being the loudest.

"Is she, laughing?" Your father asked.

"She's laughing...with them," Xavier observed.

"What!? Laughing? A reflex! She's disturbed! She's hysterical!" Your mother shouted.

"They're turning her," Xavier said softly. "They're corrupting her...without her meds she's left defenseless and scared. They're taking advantage of her good nature!"

"We got it." Detective Tsukauchi declared.

"Got what?"

"Well, it was difficult considering it was a prepaid wireless phone but...We've got her location."

Taglist: 

@craftybean13 @babayaga67 @imjustverable

@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

@kamenoyaki @hentaiqween101 @skzero-99

[ezzydean]

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!  

(click here to read them all on my tumblr and not the dash)

1. It takes approximately forty-two minutes before Stiles can convince himself to get up off the loveseat where he’s happily squished between Danny and Isaac.  (love aka part 3 of the Stiles/Peter slow burn I wrote because of Catt)

2. “So.  What the djinn did to Dean in, what was it, season one?  Two?  Whatever.  Yeah totally legit.  Negative fifty out of ten.  Would not recommend.” (promise aka part 2 of the Stiles/Peter slow burn)

3. Hajime freezes when he hears the distinct sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat behind him.  (the 5+1 mistletoe kisses prompt)

4. Stiles’s phone lights up and he gives it a wary look when he sees the text notification on his screen.  He’s already been warned, by a few different people, that he would probably be getting a summons soon. (trust aka part 1 of the Stiles/Peter slow burn)

5. “There comes a day in every man’s li—”

The officiant is cut off by a loud cough and he takes a bracing breath, eyes fluttering.  (the magic in you aka KageUshiIwa magical fluff)

6. The sky is turning gray, clouds rolling in to cover up the sunset, when Kuroo finally turns to Shouyou and sighs.

“Call him.”

Shouyou snickers at the defeated tone of Kuroo’s voice but he pulls out his phone. (we’re in a parking lot somewhere aka KuroHinaDai something or other I’m writing)

7. It still hurts sometimes.  Not his wound.  It’s scarred up rather nicely.  As nice as a giant scar across half your face can be anyway. (a yet to be titled/plotted ATLA Zuko & Toph thing)

8. It starts early one morning —  mere minutes after the door has unlocked and the sign has scrawled itself into a brilliantly colorful OPEN complete with sparkles and tiny fireworks — not long after everything has started to quiet down.  (Well it had technically started years and years ago when they were all childish and stupid right little shits to each other but that’s a different story for a different day.) (only time will tell aka my Draco/George & Theo/Fred fic)

9.  Neville snaps his head up, instantly wary of Hermione and that tone of voice, and then flushes when he realizes what he’s done.  It’s Hermione after all.  She’s entirely too clever for her own good but she’s not some sneaky devious creature he has to watch his back around.  Though sometimes when she smiles the way she’s smiling now he remembers that, actually, yes she is a sneaky devious creature.  She just likes him enough that, for the most part, he doesn’t have to worry about watching his back around her.  (an untitled HP everyone comes back as professors fic)

10. Some things in life are certain.  They’re just going to happen no matter what, no matter how much you might try to prevent them.  So the smart thing to do would be to just go with the flow, right?  Just let the things happen and try not to stress over it.  Morisuke likes to think of himself as a fairly smart person.  So he’ll just take a few deep breaths and let it go, right?

Wrong.  (untitled TsukkiYaku fake dating fic)

11. Issei stumbles out of his bedroom and shuffles down the hall doing a really great impression of a zombie if you ask him.  He’s got the groans and the unsteady steps and the unfocused eyes and the inability to use higher brain functions like speech and decision making.  (my last first everything aka HanaMatsu slow burn mutual pining childhood friends to lovers)

12. The cauldron in the fireplace rattles and Daichi gives it an unimpressed stare. (cauldron bubble aka BokuDai magic accidental baby acquisition)

13. Tobio’s eyes cross as he tries to focus on the object dangling in front of his face.  He leans away from it and presses the back of his head against a warm stomach.

“Hello Iwaizumi,” he says.  (a place in the sun aka IwaKage fluff)

14. The cupboard under the stairs isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to be.  But if you are five and want to hear what the adults are talking about so seriously in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place then, sadly, the cupboard it is. (matchsticks and dragon scales, year 1 aka my Harry Potter rewrite)

15. Hajime takes a sip of his coffee and sighs, ignoring the world around him for just a few minutes while he sits and at his table at Generic Coffee Shop and gets his morning dose of caffeine.  (roots and sky aka the IwaOi part of my childhood friends to lovers series, the dichotomy of you and me)

16. It’s two in the afternoon on a Tuesday and all Tadashi wants to do is go home and sleep.  Maybe for a week.  Maybe for a month.  He’s not too entirely picky to be honest. (stars and sea aka the YamaTsukki part of the dichotomy of you and me)

17. So.  Library.

Not exactly where he’d thought he’d be working when he was back in high school.  But it’s, objectively speaking, not the worst place he could be working.  Like sure it’s not quite as interesting as working at the aquarium like Watari.  But it’s also not as taboo sounding as working at a funeral place like Matsukawa.

So.  You know.  It’s not that bad. (past and future aka the KinKuni part of the dichotomy of you and me)

18. Tetsurou glances at the screen one last time before posting and immediately closing out of his browser and signing out of his email.  He shuts down his computer a moment later and stands with a quiet groan.  It’s been a shit day.  It’s not the worst Thursday of his life or anything like that.  Just.  A shit day.  All he wants to do is clock out and go the fucky doodle home.  Which is why he hurries past his boss’s office with his head down — he has the worst problem saying no when his boss asks him for things which is how he found himself with Social Media Coordinator tacked onto his business card a few months ago — and when he hear his boss’s door start to open he hurries a little faster and opts for taking the stairs down instead of waiting for the elevator. (body and soul aka the KuroKen part of the dichotomy of you and me)

19. Kei stretches idly as he waits for practice to start.  They’re already a few weeks into this year’s season but today they’re apparently waiting for their new team trainer.  Or assistant coach.  Or something.  He wasn’t entirely listening to the announcement from the captain yesterday.   (we’ll meet at the horizon aka my epic HinaTsukki slow burn)

20. He knows the moment the words leave his lips that he’s gone too far, that he’s made one too many jokes, said a few too many things he shouldn’t have.  He always screws up, is always too much for people to handle. ((don’t) write me an elegy of your past, love aka that AkaKuro & BokuDai fantasy au)

I have no idea if I have any patterns other than I go for humor, a lot.  And I can’t pick a favorite cause I love them all for different reasons.

[hope-and-sleep]

SO HERE’S WHAT HAPPENED TODAY

So I stay up all night to finish my project, yeah?  It’s 7:00AM, I think I’m in a good place, so I eat some breakfast, take a nap, do a little more work, eat lunch.  12PM, I open up my work, realize that my cursor has gone a bit fucky and I don’t know how to fix it, so I decide to restart my computer.  Nothing like turning it back off and on again, right?

But when I start it back up again, my file -- the one that I’ve been slaving over for over 12 hours -- is completely empty.  

“Sonnuvabitch,” says I, very loudly. 

So I fiddle around with it for an hour, looking up some shit about how to restore files, before accepting that there’s no way Imma figure out how to recover it.  So I rewrite it.  Alllllllll of it.

3:30PM. I’ve rewritten all my code.  None of it works.  I comment out everything except for the bits I’m positive should work.  Still nothing.

4:00PM, rewriting my code again.  Slower this time.  Making sure I test every bit of the way.  6:30 PM, I’ve got it, and I’m now slightly past where I was at 7:00AM this morning.  But slightly past 7:00AM in the morning is still mostly done.  I’m not happy, but this still looks doable.

7:00PM.  Done with dinner.  I’ve gotten all the hard coding done, so now I just need to put it all together, right? 

Yeah.  No.

No matter what I do, none of it connects.  8:00PM,  I just decide to give up, write my report, record my demo.  If nothing else, I can at least get 40% for the report, and the fact that I have some working code should get me some credit, right?

11:00PM.  It’s getting a little close to the deadline now, but it should be fine, right?  Most of it’s done, I just need to compress my code and put some last minute stuff on my report, right?  

My computer freezes.

I can’t turn in what I have -- my demo and my code are stuck on my old lagging shit of a PC.  I can turn in the pdf, but it’s worthless without the bit stuck on the computer.  

11:55 PM.  It’s the deadline.

And I’m still stuck staring at my frozen computer.

11:57 PM, write a half-hearted email to the TA to let me submit.  Probably not going to work, but worth a shot.

12:10 AM.  Computer shuts down of its own accord.

12:15 AM.  I might as well restart my computer and see if I can compress my files?

1:00 AM: Still compressing.  Maybe?  Has my computer gone to sleep?  Has it decided to shut itself down again?

I don’t know. ��What I do know is that it’s wayyyy too late now. Submissions are closed.   No late submissions allowed.  Which means I have just spent well over 24 hours on nothing.  

1:13 AM.  I am very tired and everything is terrible.  My computer is still trying to compress files.  I think I should accept that it’s just not going to happen.  

I am going to shut my computer down, get ready for bed, and then cry into a pillow.

[dzamie]

Sure! So there’s a tool called yt-dlp (tumblr can be fucky with links in notes, so just google yt-dlp and click on the github) that does most of the heavy lifting. To download it, click on whatever it says is the “Latest” in the “Releases” section (right column, just under the fork/view stats) and then click yt-dlp.exe to download the exe file. I think you click yt-dlp_macos if you’re on a Mac, but I’m on Windows, so idk. Save the file somewhere memorable - Mine’s in dzamie\Videos\yt-dlp\

yt-dlp is a command-line tool, so double-clicking it won’t do much. Instead, create two new text files: list.txt and get.bat (these names are arbitrary - if you want, you can name them, like, “pancake.txt” and “david_tennant_nudes.bat” or something). Make sure that get.bat is named get.bat, and not get.bat.txt - Windows is sometimes tricky like that. There might be a warning that “this kind of file can modify your system” but that’s fine - it’s gonna create files, that’s what it’s made for.

Now, list.txt is gonna be where you paste your YT URLs, so let’s skip that and move onto get.bat. This is one line long:

yt-dlp.exe -a list.txt -f "[height<=?720]"

Let’s go through this step by step.

yt-dlp.exe

Pretty obvious, this tells the computer to run the exe.

-a list.txt

This says “open list.txt and download every single video you see listed in there” - without this, it’ll expect you to give it a URL directly, which we’re trying not to do because that takes time and also sucks. Once again, if you decide to name your text file “bazinga_bazooper.txt”, just go ahead and write that in instead of “list.txt” (if the filename uses spaces, throw some quotes around that bad boy... or do it anyway, just to be on the safe side).

-f “[height<=?720]”

This is optional to include. -f is the “choose format” thing, and [height<=?720] says “find me the best video quality worse or equal to 720p.” I use this because I don’t notice much difference between 720 and 1080 when I’m just casually watching a let’s play or something, and 720 downloads about twice as fast as 1080. If you have good internet and storage space, you can leave this off; if you have shitty internet or a nearly-full disk, and don’t mind watching 540p or 360p, go ahead and change that number accordingly. Small number means fast download and worse quality. Note: if you decide to use this part of the line, make sure you delete the quotation marks and write them in again in Notepad (or whatever .txt editor you’re using). Windows can be finicky about what quotation marks it likes in its command line, but it always accepts default Notepad quotes.

Then just save the batch file. Now that get.bat is set up, it’s time to get to downloading! Open up list.txt and start pasting in URLs, one per line. It should look like this:

[ID: a screenshot of Notepad. Three YouTube URLs are visible, each on their own line]

Then save the file and double-click get.bat! This nifty command line window will pop up, letting you know what video it’s downloading and how fast it’s going!

[ID: a screenshot of a Windows command line window with several lines of text giving statuses on downloading videos. One video has been fully downloaded, and another is at 15.7%]

Sometimes a video just won’t download, and it’ll skip that one, but that doesn’t seem to happen all that often. When that’s the case, it won’t generate a thumbnail in file explorer and it’ll be like 0 bytes big or something. Just delete it - you’ll have to open it in browser, probably. But otherwise:

[ID: screenshot of two video files in Windows File Explorer. One is named “Square Enix Promises A Sickening NFT Future” with a thumbnail of a wrestling ring, and the other is named “‘Hang in there, everybody!’” with a thumbnail of My Little Pony pixel art]

Ta-da! Videos! Saved locally, so you can hang on to them however long you want, you can watch them whenever you want, and they don’t even show up in your browser history!

I actually manage my YouTube subscriptions through Thunderbird, so these days it’s pretty rare I ever actually go to youtube.com in browser.

hate being the generation that remembers no ads on YouTube & the annoyance when we first saw 1 ad every 10 videos, then 1 every 5 videos, then on every video, then multiple ads within a single video, only for YouTube to market paying for Premium™️ to ‘get rid of ads!’ which weren’t even there at the start

[kittencaboodleextraordinaire]

“Ok, but I had a Johnny first, and mine is better”: Adventures in Cyberpunk with a snarky headmate

Warning: this post contains considerable discussion of a major plot point in Cyberpunk 2077 which is discussed in the promotional materials (trailers etc) but which is not revealed in-game until after the first segment of the main story (the heist). Those who wish to remain unspoiled may instead view this lovely picture I edited of four raccoons in a trenchcoat (inspired by Critical Role’s playthrough of the absolutely delightful ttrpg Crash Pandas, which I highly encourage everybody in existence to go check out).

This phenomenal piece of art is surely the high point of this post. It can only go downhill from here.

Anyway.

So as we all know, Cyberpunk 2077 was finally released a few days ago to the expected amount of drama and fanfare, and my partner and I have been playing it together, by which I mean he’s been playing and I’ve been providing helpful advice like “We should totally buy the awesome purple car what do you mean you want a motorcycle THE MOTORCYCLE ISN’T PURPLE”. It’s not, y’know, an amazing game, but it’s pretty fun and I have already found multiple characters to ship V with, which I’m sure we can all agree is the truly important thing here. Plus of course there is abundant opportunity to make innuendo at my partner so I am a happy kitten. Mostly. There is one aspect of the story that is proving to be a continual source of awkwardness and general highly disconcerting aura. Namely, Johnny Silverhands.

At some point (I fell asleep for this part so I don’t know exactly what happened), you end up fused with a chip containing the personality of Johnny Silverhands, some kind of sort of famous dude who died a long time ago or something like that. awards self 10/10 stars for that eloquent and informative summary of important plot elements I was totally paying attention to and wasn’t asleep for at all anyway the important thing is there’s a dude hanging out in your brain with you. This is kind of weird and awkward for me, since I also have a dude hanging out in my brain with me. His name is Jonas. Jonas, say hi. J: I’m not a zoo animal and I don’t do tricks, also I reject the idea that this adds to the post in any real way. However you are very lucky because I am bored and complaining at you sounds more fun than going back to sleep. Now I’m tired and it’s 3:30 am go to bed or write the rest of this by your own damn self. That’s basically the same thing I guess.

Jonas is a bit weird. I don’t really have any idea what he is, and it’s not really within the scope of this blog post to discuss it in depth. He is some flavor of alternate personality, he is one of my closest friends, and he is a pain in the ass, much like most of my other friends. Having Jonas around is uncannily like V’s experience sharing their brain with Johnny Silverhands. Now I have a few other friends who have multiple personalities, one of whom is watching playthroughs of Cyberpunk and has appropriately described the experience as “pretty fucky”, which about sums it up. However it’s made even worse for me personally by the sheer number of similarities between Jonas and Johnny and their interactions with the people they share heads with, for (the most obvious) example, their names are really fucking similar. Jonas has matured a lot since he started appearing about 6-7 years ago but Johnny’s snark, unhelpfulness, complete disinterest in being nice, and even his body language all scream of Jonas’s original behavior, which, let’s be honest here, he still does all that anyway, he’s just nicer about it because he likes me. When Jonas and I talk, we tend to picture him as standing (or sitting or leaning against the wall or whatever) somewhere in the room with me, much as Johnny appears to V. He’s not active all the time and until very very recently was almost never “in charge”, so to speak, much like Johnny. So what we have here is somebody who acts a fuck of a lot like Jonas, has a similar name to Jonas, and interacts with their host in a manner that is almost a perfect match to how Jonas interacts with me. Somehow all of this went over my head. Then something even more uncanny happened.

Now, Jonas was originally an extremely minor character in a vast series of stories that I have made up in my head and never actually written down. He somehow evolved, without any conscious effort on my part, from a bit character who was never meant to do anything besides show up, get scolded by the authorities, and leave, to an increasingly major character, to living in my brain with me. Consequently, while he generally shares my tastes and preferences in terms of food and etc etc etc, there is an extremely major way in which we diverge: Jonas, like Johnny, and unlike me, smokes. All the time. It is Very Important to him. As such, the fact that I do not smoke and have exactly negative one billion interest in ever doing so is a source of intense frustration to him. We have had m a n y arguments about this. He knows not to push it too much and respects that it is my decision but that is not about to stop him from complaining about it loudly and with great passion. So when we encountered a scene of V and Johnny having the exact same fucking argument, ending with the incredibly blatantly Jonasesque lamentation from Johnny “Nonsmokers are the fucking worst”, it was like getting hit in the head with a brick. Actually forget the brick, it was like being hit with an entire building, and then having Jonas stick his head out the window and go “Missed me? ;)”, and then yelling back “WELL IDK BUT MAYBE NEXT TIME YOU’RE PILOTING AN ENTIRE FUCKING BUILDING IF YOU COULD TRY A LITTLE HARDER TO MISS ME THAT’D BE REALLY NICE THANKS” and then having him wink at me and assure me that head trauma builds character. It fucking doesn’t and he knows it.

After that, it was impossible to not see Jonas every time Johnny came onscreen. I still enjoy the game a lot. The setting and story are both really really cool and the loot is A+, and I really love being able to hang out in voice chat with my partner, who currently lives pretty far away, and do something fun together and experience something new. But having my relationship with Jonas, which I still have a lot of conflicting feelings about no matter how much I genuinely believe he’s a positive force in my life, reflected back at me at every turn, is bizarre, surreal, and a constant reminder of issues that have been nagging at me for a while, many of which are explicitly being brought up by the game itself. Last night we were doing a mission where V and Johnny at some point start talking and V mentions how they seem to be getting along better and Johnny suggests that maybe it’s because he’s rubbing off on V. V responds with something to the effect of “Am I becoming more like you, or are you becoming more like me?”. Jonas and I have been asking ourselves the same question for years. The only answer we were ever able to come up with is “probably both”, but the question of how much and to what extent, and if you start blending together with somebody else that much, are you really the same person anymore, and on down the rabbit hole we go, can really eat at you if you’re the kind of person who cares about that sort of thing. Which I guess we both are. And frankly we are probably not even half done with the main storyline and I doubt it’s going to stop posing these questions. 

J: so I said I wasn’t going to have any more of this and went off in a huff but actually I changed my mind I have some stuff to say. 

this is obviously weird for kitsie, and I guess it might be obviously weird for me too but it’s weird in an entirely different kinda way. it’s certainly surreal, and a lot of the questions it keeps bringing up are a lot to think about. Johnny is a program on a computer chip designed to be a copy of the original Johnny’s brain. this raises the question, and this may or may not be addressed later, how real is he? and is he the original Johnny, just on a computer chip now, or is he a different entity who happens to be identical to Johnny? and how is a person on a computer chip embedded on somebody’s brain really different from a person who’s a subroutine in somebody else’s brain? am I real? am I a part of Kitsie that just thinks differently for some reason? are we two facets of a whole being that’s kind of both of us and kind of neither of us? am I just a hitchhiker? I really don’t know. I have a lot of memories and backstory. things I did in the past, before I knew Kitsie. are those memories real? they feel real to me but on the other hand they didn’t actually happen. are Johnny’s memories real? they did happen but he’s a brain scan so did they actually happen to him? it’s a lot to think about, but hard to stop thinking.

and then there’s the other concern, which is that this is a game for kitsie to enjoy with her partner, and whenever this shit happens it wakes me up and I end up feeling really weird, like I’m intruding. which I am.  and as wonderful and understanding as he is, I’m still very much something he is getting used to and having problems adjusting to and I really understand because fuck I’m having a problem adjusting to me too. and maybe it’s stupid but I feel bad for being the disconcerting aura of uncomfortable thoughts wafting through something that’s supposed to be a pleasant and fun evening without me in it. which frankly sums up my entire existence. fuck this I’m tired I’m out of here again go tf to sleep kit.

I had more to say but “what he said” pretty much sums it up.

In conclusion, I don’t really have any objection to the story itself. It’s an interesting concept carried out fairly well that under normal circumstances I would think was really cool, and certainly it’s been a unique experience anyway. And I guess if anything the fact that it’s so unnervingly on the nose is a sign they did a good job? I’m still having a huge amount of fun with the game and the massive backlog of sidequests combined with our minimal ability to focus means that the main quest only takes up a small portion of our playtime in any case. I just needed to get all this shit off my chest.

This has been tonight’s episode of the Kitty Rambles Podcast, I am too tired to think of any good way to end this so goodnight and thank you for tuning in!

[silentstephi]

This is going to be a mess

But here’s my thoughts about Andromeda (below the cut, because holy fuck spoilers)

Ok. It delivered on the Mass Effect itch.  That is for sure.

The plot wasn’t bad. A little predictable in some areas (sorry but I called Charlatan/Reyes after the second meet up you had with him) but it was fun and they managed to surprise me in some ways (like I knew the Archon was going to get his mits on Scott at some point, but I think I forgot about it so that last bit/lead up was pretty good.)

The characters are all hands down awesome.  Gil was kind of annoying out of the gate but he grew on me.  And this is the first time ... I think ever that I’m  not ambivalent about the entire crew? I love Suvi and Kallo and Gil and Lexi for all the flavor they bring to the ship, a really small ship at that. Like there’s no extra crew there, I would love to see a comparison shot of the Tempest vs Normandy. I’m going to guess Normandy being the much larger ship...

Anyway, side tracked, the characters! I love them. I was very much debating on who to romance out of the gate, but Liam is just... super adorable, kind of sweet, and I do love a lot of the little things he does or say when you go down the romance path with him. I’ll make another run again, maybe going for Vetra or Jaal.  If I make a Scott game and I didn’t do Vetra, then I’ll go that route.

I like Peebee, I just like being her friend, that’s fun.  Though zero g sexy times was fun.  As for a Cora romance, don’t get me wrong, I love the character, but there’s a lot of baggage there, and until I see a playthrough of Scott with her, I don’t think I’d find that a romance I could do.  But this is why there’s youtube.

Ok, here’s the bad. The animation. You’ve heard it, we’ve all heard it.

Good god. This must be a brand new team, because there are scenes done better in ME than Andromeda.  Like, barring the strange eyes or lips not moving right and all this weird basic things, they haven’t evolved in their animation at all.  I can see where they’re trying to get more emotive, but when it’s only 10% of the game that looks polished, you notice and it’s just... yikes. Jarring.

But on top of the animation being sub par, and they could have possibly gotten away with it being so... the cinematography was just... Not. There.

I don’t have the terminology to describe what I’m missing here, but cut scenes in ME2 and ME3 felt like you were watching a movie.  In Andromeda it’s like Blair Witch. Some amatuer has the camera, pointing it at the who that’s talking, and there’s no... like, close ups of the character who speaking and the camera moves or just hey the PCs face looks kind of fucky here so let’s instead focus on the ACTION they’re doing so we can bypass that.  

Plus the lighting!  Good god the lighting x.x  There is this going from inside and outside effect that I understand is cool in theory (like it’s bright outside, you’re inside, you go from one to the other and suddenly are blinded/can’t see until your eyes - in this the computer - adjusts and it’s just so artificial...) but in execution fall flat. There were also a LOT of scenes where they didn’t bother breaking the camera back and forth from speaker to speaker so suddenly the lighting on the person talking went out or suddenly was there.  It’s something I noticed when I’d use flycam on scenes, and I get how they’re really handy at making things feel.... better? I don’t know.  But there were no camera tricks, and I think a lot of the story telling suffered because of it.

There were scenes that you finished that you REALLY could have used a fade to black and a few seconds to just... digest. To let your brain catch up that now it’s time to move on, or whatever. I don’t have a perfect example for this atm, but when I do I’ll make note of it.

The other bad, I almost don’t want to say is bad, but it might have been the cause of why all these other areas suffered: this game is fucking dense as shit. There is A LOT to do.  I feel like almost too much.  Replay value for me is going to really suck because I don’t have a lot of time and the completionist in me is going to kick and scream about all the stuff I have to leave alone.

This one is a personal preference thing but I’m not a huge fan of the multiple profiles thing.  I just played as a Vanguard and smashed my way through things. I died, a lot, but the profile system felt confusing to set up. I kept fucking up the profiles, so I stopped trying. I feel like those are going to be infinitely more important for Hardcore and Nightmare runs.  Godspeed to them. After that Archon fight, I doubt I’ll ever get those achievements. Buh.

As for plot...

I did like it... but fuck this fucking bullshit of only allowing one representative that you can pick are you kidding me? I had the night to stew on it and the shower this morning to really think and I’m not 100% sold on who I chose now. I feel like I should have gone with my first gut instinct and chosen the Angaran rep, but I went with the Krogan, because fucking YES they finally deserve a council seat ffs. But if I had my druthers Pathfinder picks TWO and it’s both of them, fuck that noise.

As for all the openings they left, via the Quarian Ark and the fact that we STILL have no idea what the fuck the Scourge is nor do we know who the fuck the Jalnaar? or whoever the hell the Remnant are... I mean sure, seed those future games... but they had really big hurdles to get past over the whole ME3 thing. This animation shit is going to get them chewed apart, and I’m afraid that there won’t BE an Andromeda 2 let alone story DLC.

All in all, I’m happy to have another Mass Effect. I’ll probably continue to have more thoughts and feels about things, but this is all I could articulate while my children attempt to crawl into my laptop.

[sonmain]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50,51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 58, 59, 60,61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 82,83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89,90, 91, 92, 93,94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99 and 100.

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?More milk2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?No, it's hell3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?Tissues, wrappers, receipts 4: how do you take your coffee/tea?Idk5: are you self-conscious of your smile?Yes, very6: do you keep plants?Yes!!! I had a fairy garden but one of the pots broke 😪7: do you name your plants?Yeah, I named the tree in our backyard Venosaur8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?Oh, painting on canvas, or drawing with a pencil9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?Yes!! V v good stim!10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?Side11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends?Fuckin...Furries12: what's your favorite planet?Earth, I love the animals and plants. She's so cute13: what's something that made you smile today?My friend said my story was good14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?Probably kind of bright but also with some posters and nice decor and nice beds and a little window we can sit on.15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!Space lightning is a thing16: what's your favorite pasta dish?Alfredo17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?Magenta, or turquoise 18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.Oh I fell on my ass in the hallway and threw my MacBook. Only two people saw it19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?Well not a conventional one but I've had journals before.20: what's your favorite eye color?Blue21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.It's this golden and red bag and it's soft22: are you a morning person?Hahahahaha funny. Next question23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?Make art or browse tumblr24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?Yes25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into? I haven't broken in anywhere26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit?I don't have any shoes like that27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor?Blue raspberry28: sunrise or sunset?Sunrise (ironic)29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?Giggles30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?Fucking yes31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.I guess, sometimes, no32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.I fucking tripped over my friend at a sleepover after she said "person here!"33: what's your fave pastry?Any really34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?MOG, he was a green stuffed monkey thing with no hands or toes so I called him mog the monkey frog, I think I do still have him35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?Idk36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?Imagine dragons37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?Clean but it usually ends up messy38: tell us about your pet peeves!LOUD NOISES AND PEOPLE MAKING FUN OF ME ASKING THEM TO STOP39: what color do you wear the most? black40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you?Um...my bracelet I got from my friend for Christmas 41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving?Artemis Fowl42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!Starbucks, and the wonderful smells and hot chocolate43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?My friend Tori44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?Never45: do you trust your instincts a lot? Sorta46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.A man went to court for wearing only underwear. It was a brief case.47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? Losing friends, yes49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? No50: what's an odd thing you collect? Idk?51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? Tori-blu 52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? Pure memes53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?No54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? Tori55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?Idk56: what are some things you find endearing in people?Laughs 57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?It made me feel crazy and yes58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?CHARLIE IS WINE MOM, TORI YOU KNOW YOURE VODKA AUNT FOR A REASON59: what's your favorite myth? Idk60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? Not really 61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received?Leaves, leaves62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?Orange, apple63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?Kinda leave them be64: what color is the sky where you are right now?Light blue 65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with? OOhh um, Cheyanne and Kennadie66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?White and pink alternating with Blue and yellow over it67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?Oh they make me feel...amazing. I like the different feel! And like the soft glow. And the new feelings of being on a dark bus during rain.68: what's winter like where you live? Well it used to be frozen hell...but now it's not 😥69: what are your favorite board games? Monopoly70: have you ever used a ouija board?No and I plan to never71: what's your favorite kind of tea?Peach72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it? Not really, it's more procrastination that destroys me73: what are some of your worst habits?Procrastination, forgetting to eat, disregarding self care, self hate, 74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.They are the sweetest most amazing halminerd that loves my stories 75: tell us about your pets! Kiwi is my two year old boxer. We call her Moose, Meat brick, lazy doggo, and basically everything else lol76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't?Probably a project 77: pink or yellow lemonade?Eh I like both78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?Hate79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?Made art for me. Omg I die 80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?Grey81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.Like swimming in the clearest and most murky waters, and feeling relaxed at free82: are/were you good in school? Sorta83: what's some of your favorite album art?I actually don't know84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?No85: do you read comics? what are your faves?Well like..,Rock and Riot86: do you like concept albums? which ones?No87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Zootopia, hocus pocus, 88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? Idk89: are you close to your parents? Yeah, sorta90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. The sky lines reach amazingly high, the city gets washed in the glow of the riding a setting sun. (It never said I couldn't be vague)91: where do you plan on traveling this year? Europe!92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? Drowns it93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most? Up in a pony94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? My sister's 95: what are your plans for this weekend? Going to the mall with a few friends 96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? Procrastinate 97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? Uhhhh aquarius and ravenclaw 98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? Yes! 99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. Arrietty's song, Sail, rocks, fireflies100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? Past, so I can do over and cause myself not to become an anxious fucky fuck that messes every thing upPhew!

[ckcker]

Spit-Take’s Last Squirt

I look down at the parking lot of the apartment complex, I briefly think the back of a woman’s head walking away from me is the front of a hot guy walking towards me.  I hear a deadbolt unlock and turn and am invited inside.  Crossing the threshold of Rob’s apartment door sinks a throttled prick through my body akin to stumbling into a rusty and bubble-wrapped metal spike apparently for sale in an antique store.  Even as the top door hinge passes by my temple as a snubbed showbiz air kiss there is a flash in my mind of something, unrelated to the physical apartment and also a thing I will never be able to remove, that asks to keep my focus in two places at once.  Between these two places, the feet and the head spitroast me with their perverse negotiations.  My initial trauma is at this point overused as a topic and let’s agree boring to think about; my mind starts to suggest trauma spinoffs instead.  I am given a glass of water by Rob but then ask for a beer as, without asking, my memory gifts me excruciating yet kinkily edited content of my attempts to recover.  One of the best ways to come back from a nervous breakdown, I decided in the aftermath of that notable moment, is to do it very very quickly, ‘few solutions are as correct as speed-processing a massive landmark shift in the perception of reality,’ I had soothed myself in the aftermath.  I was hoping for something shittier than an IPA, I drink the IPA and turn, I notice the back of what I believe is an old woman’s head and body resting on the couch.  

After my  ˹survivable event˼  it was typical for all of the dying to retire inward. I believed I could bring back my life in the same way that people made jokes about being dead inside to prepare for the end of the world.  Alright, the remodeling of total defeat into pragmatic quarantine.  Enough disaster movies had passed, everyone notices catastrophes have entertainment value, I would walk past and look in the glass reflection of a recently opened Thai street food spot run by white ex-skaters, I evaluated my drilled in face and greyed out options, my de-emphasized terror: maybe even I could be entertaining. My original twist on the concept of recovering was to imagine my strength and ability as limitless. To decide I could pre-understand the well-flung implications of my situation, of a mind unable to cope with learning all of the things that are possible.  I wanted to turbo-ravel a lights out unraveling; the poet who wanted to be a cop.  I turn to Rob and say nothing about the apparently older woman, he also says nothing about her, asks, “what kind of music do you like?” before playing an Ace of Base song and I don’t have to answer.  The woman seems to be activated.  Her limbs slide against her torso and she turns to look around the room, then briefly at us but again at the room, then one certain spot on the wall to the right of where we are standing where she settles and says “hi” in a warble expelled as a foehn.    

I return the hi and am introduced to Gail.  I thought of all my failed solutions.  For instance, attending several satellite Occupy Wall Street protests, where discussions of income inequality and widespread mobilization were annotated with shouts, why is there fluoride in our water and end the fed.  One important takeaway involved a large man yelling along to the song being played on the sound system, “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me,” for two repetitions of the lyric before realizing no one else would join him and vanishing into embarrassed aerosol.  A successful protest fixates on a way for everyone to feel more or less the same emotion at a coordinated moment.  A successful protest is very sharply art directed and does not relish the display of rehearsed outrage.  The foot I thought I’d taken out of my ass and put through the door had somehow ended up in some other ass.  Feel it for the first time again.  Though people will regularly re-watch movies only waiting for their favorite lines to be said, it seems they rarely stop to consider protest tactics they have seen before.  I thought I had the patience, the dedication for such things, I tapped out naturally and in gas form. “She needed a place to stay for a bit,” Rob tells me, Gail says nothing but smiles lightly, looking at us in some awesome combo of salivating for a response and indifferent to the fact of being trapped behind twenty successive panes of stained glass.  Tchah, the experience of watching an ancient demon fail an eight week long beginner’s course on improv. “I see,” I conclude, Gail’s expression remains the same.  “Wow…’Beautiful Life’ is such a good song,” Rob says. The song moves to the front. I say, “Yes, I do love ‘Beautiful Life.’”

I had tried walks and not just sometimes but many walks.  Down the city cul-de-sac at a certain time.  Listening to wordless music, this one some sort of ambient dramatization of Eurydice’s botched escape from the underworld, a repetitive melancholy chunnel.  Then a rotation: it becomes Britney from an era when pop turned us around an axis both blingy and higgedly-piggedly-nigh-fucky-wucky, gently increasing the healing concept with each exacting flail, that there may be a consolation for all problems leading up to and including the end of the world.  The consolation was dancing all night.  Of course the time of my walks was twilight.  Fried mindsets gave the music much power as a narrative soundtrack; as I looked at a single branch of a very tall tree overhead and caught in sunset and streetlight, jiggled evocatively by wind, and heard a sort of coincidental despair-organized belch from the buckled gut of the mp3, I attempted to speed things up by trying to lose my mind all of the way.  This did not work, I had to stay somewhere in between.  

I went on more walks alone but never too far from my amazing bed.  It was crucial to be within 30 walking minutes of somewhere unsurveilled where I could lay down and catalogue mysterious headaches, as mysterious headaches had rightfully been selected as the center of my world.  The speed of losing a mind is incredibly hard to measure.  Gail also listens to ‘Beautiful Life’ and clearly does not know what it is, I don’t feel familiar enough with Rob to confront the question of how they know each other, I try:

“Are you two related?”

“No no no, haha,” Rob’s voice enters an excited tone. Gail emerges a glacial grin that, even as it forms one of the most approachable configurations able to be realized on a face, still seems misdirected from the hook of a comforting social cue, “no, I met Gail at a bar last night.  At Tina’s.  She just needs a place to stay for a little.  She just moved back here.”  “I spent many years in Lawrence, with my family,” Gail says.  

“I see.”  

Context clues point to homeless, I ache to know much more, Rob twirls around with unbridled pizazz.  He puts his two arms straight out towards me, “what would — ohhh!!”  He retracts his arms. “I was going to ask if you wanted something to drink.” Gail rests, “but you already have a beer,” and here he must have felt the panic to entertain away a social gaffe by immediately giving a clear-cut logical explanation, “my mind has been wiped away this week.  So much molly…           Well…   good.”  

“Yes.”  

“Yes INDEED hunny. This past weekend just about mummified me, I’ve been in a sarcophagus all WEEK, did you do anything fun?”

“Umm.”

I remembered then I was trying to stop using umm. I was coaching myself to be quite fearless and brave when entering sentences.  The CEO of a major newspaper-then-media company once said, before filming a segment for an in-house spot on the company’s approach to advertising its newly launched free weekly targeting 23-35 y/o young professionals, ‘I’m not an umm guy.’  This dialogue, delivered to the video director who was reminding the CEO to look straight in the camera and avoid using expressions like “umm” and “uhh” since they communicated unpreparedness, nerves or insecurity, revealed in its choppy severity a set of verbal and body language constraints that likely this man thought of all the time in order to conjure his short and long term goals.  Likely he thought of them almost as much as I thought about mysterious headaches.  I had been hired to help craft services for the shoot and spent much of the time sitting against a wall print of a famous basketball player, staring at the glass-walled office and elevators meant to enhance, via the perspective of ‘more space’ given by such architecture, a tech-oriented workplace for the media-damaged graduates.  See-thru offices offer more natural light, the young people of the era seem to enjoy a certain kind of light.  Another two-day job to float me, and an opportunity to rebuild a stomach for being outside of my incredible room.  “I stayed in on Saturday,” then I pause before continuing, “I watched a movie.  A documentary,” which I had watched for 17 minutes before moving to my window to observe the parking lot for 45 minutes, followed by bed.  

Rob seems uncomfortable with this idea, “you should come out with us this weekend. There’s some stuff going on.  Maybe you can come to this super fun party, it’s a queer party.  In fact it’s a conspiracy theory-themed queer party.”  Gail moves her left forefinger a splanch.  “It’s really funny! And good music, people dress up, it’s called……….Femmetrails” there is a pause of expectation which I do not know how to meet and which is ignored “it’s really funny and lots of dancing. My friend Blake hosts it. But in drag.  And, guess what his drag name is” I try to remember: was it a parking lot I observed, or a man in his early 40s masturbating within a fingerprint-shrouded computer screen “Georgia SORROWS.  Gail’s going to come!”  Gail has stopped grinning and seems to be unreachable for the length of a square breath before a small shift in her sitting style punctures the proto-gargoyle droop. “Yes I am going to come” she confirms.  “Yes and you should too,” it appears Rob is attached to the idea.  I clean out my lower mouth with my tongue, with mouth closed.  “That would be, maybe” this seems to be enough of an answer for everyone.  

Rob sits on the ground, I begin to prepare my body to also sit on the ground.  It had been a meat lover’s pizza approach to self-healing.  Kava tea from the pharmacy chain, sugar abstinence, performative meditation, I slipped into nonsensical jogging regimens, coffee abstinence, I walked gently in frozen empty parking lots, I didn’t touch anyone for a full year, “my balls are lost halls,” short term CBT and do-it-yourself biofeedback, waiting for hyperventilation so I could write about it, and all this supported by typical means: substantial daily hard alcohol acceptances and fearless ibuprofen stuffings.  And to heal oneself completely, one must never enlighten others to the full extent of the problem and the drenched map of half-solutions being applied, regularly, in secret.  Yes, I had as much spiritual discipline as a teen in an Intro to Photo class taking b&w photos of homeless people on the street.  I sit down at least four feet away from Rob and twelve from Gail, who in the meantime it has been discovered does not know the story of Amanda Bynes’ breakdown.  She also does not know who Amanda Bynes is.  Neither Rob nor I have any interest in making that clear.  The super gonorrheic minutiae that line and then bedazzle the mental process of a terrified person do not enter conversations as smoothly as quotes from 23 year old cult TV shows canceled after two seasons.  Not a shock, only a condition that makes the thoughts turn ever more crunched, ever more specific and internally bound, glowing with unpopular culture.

[star-shard]

TFP was not trash, nor was it ‘’’’fucky’’’’, but man oh man, Eurus’s plan made zero sense. Considering all the alternatives she could have done. She had access to the consultant criminal’s resources, an entire prison facility filled with dangerous minds and high clearance government workers, she could go anywhere in the world she wanted and then just return without a soul knowing, she had five years to construct a full plan, all with our heroes completely clueless to her level of power, she had the element of surprise completely on her side.

And what does this actual god like super person with more power than anyone else in the world, more genius than anyone else, and all the bitterness in her heart to motivate her do?

She chills out for five years, then makes the prison into a lab rat maze, pushing them all with pretty low stakes considering she has the power to grab the entire world by the balls and in the end all this sadistic homicidal computer human needed was a hug from her big bro. Deep down she’s just a frightened little bunny rabbit that needs love. She’ll never kill again, scouts honor. 

Oh, but Jim? He doesn’t get a hug. Nope. No power of love for him. That’s reserved for ladies only, like Irene and Eurus. Though lord knows the obvious solution I know /everyone/ was yelling at the screen back in TRP was that all Sherlock needed to do was /hug/ Jim. Fuck it, maybe even call up John, have a group hug. Why stop there, get the whole cast in there, get the camera guy, end this fucker Monty Python style and cause a scene. But, nah. Gun in the mouth. But also not really cause the writers are gonna cock tease his return every chance they get cause fuck you thats why. 

In all seriousness, I do like the emotional development that Sherlock has gone through and I admire a focus on family love rather than romantic love for the final show down, but the set up/plot to lead us into the development just wasn’t very strong. I also think the sadness worked a lot better with Jim than it did with Eurus because of it’s subtly, not to mention we had more time to get to know him. Jim was just the better villain. To me, it’s just a fact. He had more interesting plans, he was more fun to watch, and his logic actually made some sense plot wise. He’s a mirror image to our hero, he’s the other side of the coin, he feels like his own character. Eurus feels more like a device to help Sherlock grow, for him to learn a lesson. Rather than a person, she felt more like a video game final boss. Looked cool, sounded cool, but just a segway to the end credits.

That’s where I think the disappointment comes in. Moriarty was such a cool villain. CAM perhaps didn’t have his wow factor, but we all knew he was more of an in between villain, and at the very least was set apart enough from Jim so that he stood out as his own person. But, Eurus? She feels sort of like girl Moriarty with some horror movie tropes thrown in. I think even if Eurus was going to be a device rather than a full character, she should have been given a more distinct personality, perhaps different motives, or even a different speaking cadence. As of now, she really just comes off a trope filled, cliche, we’ve seen this before. 

Moriarty and Cam felt /different/ though, from the usual villain mold. For Jim, a /lot/ of that can be owed to Andrew Scott’s performance. No one saw it coming, he was a scene stealer, he just /spoke/ /weirdly/. His words had odd emphasis, he lilted but also screamed, he changed accents for no fucking reason at all, he /exuded/ wild card with power, with all the charm in the world. CAM on the flip side was disgusting. A villain you’d love to hate. Now, I’m not fond of him particularly, but I certainly like the change of pace, as they could have easily fallen into a rehash. He’s a genius as well, but unlike Jim who represents what genius can become when subjected to a loveless upbringing and unfortunate brain chemistry, a victim of his own insanity, CAM’s form of evil is far more alien, yet far more common in businesses and capitalism. 

To me, each main villain represents a form of genius gone wrong. Moriarty being a victim (though still whole heartedly responsible for his actions mind you) CAM being corporate and self serving and Eurus being.... a victim. See what I mean? Eurus didn’t seem fresh because we’d already seen it done better before with Moriarty. She’s just a bit more frail than Jim, and a bit more robotic because of how high her intelligence is. So. Why didn’t you just continue the use of Jim if the same message was there? Why not have Sherlock’s path with Moriarty go even further, until an understanding is /finally/ met. That the mirror images come together, and learn something about love. And /not/ necessarily ending in a powerful hug scene, but something smaller, softer, perhaps Sherlock learning something about the man, and therefore himself. 

Why have Eurus at all? To me, it seems she is here to explain why Sherlock is the way he is. But, to be one hundred percent honest, as an audience, I was down with the ambiguous nature of his origins. I just thought, he’s an asshole because he’s just different, he solves cases because he loves it. Not because of a friend he lost, or a sister he forgot. And even if those details do add a level of humanity to him, they’re not necessary. I feel you could give him more emotional depth without having to give backstory, that his growth could come from the present, rather his past. Present emotional growth worked very well and subtly during the first half of the show, why stop that trend? Deeper doesn’t mean better. And if anything, I feel a more grounded growth within adulthood could be more realistic.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on why when this episode ended, rather than cheering and smiling, I was in silence.