#the health store is hanging on by a thread

[eddis-not-eeddis]

AUGH! My town only has ONE teeny-tiny piddly bookstore. Half of the books are about racism, the other half are about psychology. The music is perverse. I want to go book shopping so badly, but in the entire area we have no used bookstores. HELP!

[flippedorbit]

i’m gonna be so for real, if things don’t start changing for me in good ways i will be disappearing off the face of the earth

[radioisntdead]

Not the sender for the original ask but I'm sorry I cannot help but imagine an alternative where the reader summoning Rosie is the most angsty teen ever.

They're imagining the stereotypical giant red demon with goat legs and horns- but instead there is just a pretty lady and Rosie is CONCERNED because there is a teenager in the attic of their house summoning demons, not because of any normal reason but because whatever could a child need a demon for? Do they need help? Auntie Rosie will help!

Summoning a demon but instead of taking your soul you just get adopted. If you take this seriously (you don't have to) add as much angst as you wish.

Good evening my dear! Sorry this took forever to get out! It got buried in my drafts

I added a knockoff slasher dude solely to murk the reader because, I don't know as a plot for death?? I don't remember my thoughts when sleep deprived I'm so sorry

Anyways Auntie Rosie supremacy,

Rosie & reader

Platonic

Warnings!!

This isn't my best work, it was written late at night when I was mildly delusional, death, stereotypical slasher dude, OOC

You were home alone, sat in your dark and gloomy attic surrounded by lit candles, a book you had stolen from a shady book shop was open in your hands and you had drawn a summoning circle in red paint from the dollar store.

You took a deep breath before reading out the incantation written in the book, fully prepared for something grotesque to crawl out.

Wind came forth swirling around you as the circle glowed, the sound of the wind was almost deafening, you could feel your sweater clinging onto your skin, each loose thread itching your skin

You tried your best to ignore it as you continued chanting as something rose from the circle.

Once you had finished the spell you shut your eyes as the wind winded down.

"Oh my! You're quite young aren't cha'!"

Your eyes opened as you looked up, instead of some grotesque creature with blood and horns hanging off of it, was a lady,

Her skin was gray, she was dressed in early 1900's fashion and her eyes were pitch black, like a endless void.

"Are you going to say anything or are you just going to sit there with your mouth open catchin' flies?"

She said with an eyebrow raised.

"I, shit, I'm sorry I wasn't expecting someone so pretty? I was expecting more-"

"Well aren't you a charmer! Allow me to guess, You were expecting someone more demonic looking?"

You nodded, "Yeah,"

The woman tilted her head ever so slightly,

"Well aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

This felt like a trap, what if giving your name to her would give her control of you like a fae? Probably not, but what if it was?

"Likewise, it's a pleasure! You can call me Auntie Rosie!"

"I'm [Name], nice to meet you?"

"Auntie Rosie?"

You weren't expecting the creature you summoned to be a pretty cannibal named Rosie, let alone for her to adopt you as a surrogate nibling, telling you to call her Auntie Rosie and nothing else.

She had to leave soon after you summoned her because she had 'overlord duties ' and 'A town to run' but she told you to summon her again soon.

And so you did, the next time Rosie tutted at the messy attic, saying that you should tidy up the area more if you were going to invite guests over, she asked you to grab some cleaning supplies.

You snuck down into the hall, leaving Rosie alone for a moment, you were as quiet as a mouse as you tiptoed past your sleeping suspected serial killer of a godfather, managing to make it to the kitchen to grab a few cleaning supplies and a broom before sneaking back.

Rosie hummed as she began moving boxes around, shaking her head at the amount of dust and other things that littered the floor.

"I'm back, I got a broom, dustpan, and some Clorox wipes," you say as your head popped up from the entrance,

She said taking the broom,

"Good! Now let's make this place suitable, this much dust is horrible for your health! Horrible!"

You nodded, placing the remaining objects onto the floor and carefully picking up the boxes.

"You organize those pesky boxes dearie, I'll start sweeping."

The attic completely changed from gloomy to more refined within the day.

The boxes were stacked up forming a small wall with some free space behind it, the floors had been swept and sanitized (aside from the summoning circle) the candles were replaced with fresh ones, that book that summoned her was placed on one of the boxes.

Rosie had gone back and asked you to summon her back within the hour, bringing back some furniture with her.

She brought a smallish table, two fancy looking chairs, and a rug.

Rosie said as she sat in one of the chairs you in the other, drinking tea, you didn't know where she had gotten the tea from or when it got into your hands.

"Now that makes this place far better, far far better don't you think?"

You didn't like tea all that much but it felt rude to not drink it.

You wondered if it would kill you as you took a sip,

You glanced around at the open space, honestly it was overdo, you had been sleeping in there for a couple of years now and hadn't gotten around to it.

"Yeah, it feels less stuffy for sure,"

"As it should, now that's settled why did such a lovely young lady like yourself want to summon a demon?"

She asked setting her teacup down, getting straight to the point, you choked on your tea, clearing your throat you looked anywhere but in Rosie's void-like eyes.

It was silent for a few minutes,

"It's a long story, but basically parents went missing, moved in with my Godparents, Godmother went missing, Godfather started being suspicious, pretty sure he killed them, can't prove it and I think I'm next." You said in one large breath,

"Well shit, I wasn't expecting that, that's a very messy situation,"

"Auntie Rosie dearie."

"Yeah it is Miss Rosie,"

"Sorry Auntie Rosie."

You sat in silence for a moment, you fiddled with the hem of your sweater, did she believe you? Honestly you didn't particularly believe it yourself it was all suspected.

The attic felt gloomy again once Rosie left, you were once again left alone.

"Would you like me to eat him?"

"Par- Pardon me?!"

You let out a sigh before moving to one of the boxes pulling out a throw blanket and covering the circle, no one aside from you really came up there but couldn't hurt to be cautious.

You moved to the small space behind the boxes, you open another box pulling out a few two sleeping bags, layering them onto each other and placing a pillow on it, opening yet another box you pulled out a thick blanket, you laid on the sleeping bags, curling up into it and closing your eyes until sleep came for you.

A routine began, you'd carry on like normal, going to school, working shady part-time jobs, shoplift storage safe foods at large corporations like target, and go home before your Godfather finished work, sneak back into the attic, and depending on the day summon Rosie.

Rosie was concerned to say the least, you were young, not even a proper adult yet, and you were summoning cannibals in your Attic!

Not to mention how causally there was a whole missing people who were probably was murdered thing going on, would more detail go into that? No.

Rosie truly became an Aunt to you, bringing you trinkets, hyping you up, asking if you wanted her to eat your Godfather, after all that is what you originally summoned her for, but you didn't want to risk getting moved to a different area and having to redraw the circle to summon Rosie, what if you do it wrong? What if you never see her again?

So she didn't do anything to him, listening to your decision.

You would sometimes steal or buy something you think she'd like, and give it to her during her visits, she'd typically adore it whatever it was, because it came from you!

The two of you would have tea, give each other updates on life, and the afterlife.

It was nice, but like all nice things, it unfortunately came to an end.

You ran up the stairs, throwing your backpack at him to knock him down the stairs as you pulled out the attic ladder and hurriedly climbed the ladder up before kicking down the ladder to the attic, like a slasher protagonist, you hastily moved a few heavy boxes over the hatch.

He came home early, and when you walked inside the house to sneak upstairs into your attic, nothing was said, so it was concerning when he grabbed his murder weapon of choice and bolted off after you.

You just needed to summon Rosie and everything would be alright, they couldn't hurt you if Rosie was here,

You shakily pulled out the lighter that stayed in your pocket as you heard your Godfather shout your name, banging on the entrance.

Lighting the candles you scrambled to sit beside the circle, closing your eyes you began the summoning.

The wind began pushing as per usual,

The banging got louder, you could hear one of the boxes fall,

Just a few more seconds, and Auntie Rosie would appear, just a few more seconds and you'd be free, free from this lunatic, you could get a proper job that wasn't suspicious, probably go to collage, make proper friends that you could tell Rosie about with pride, you could give Rosie gifts that weren't stolen or cheap.

Just a few more seconds that's all you needed.

The hatch flew open, his eyes widened, no words were spoken, you didn't even get the chance to defend yourself when the murder weapon of choice, which was a machete because of course it was, stabbed into you.

Rosie appeared, smile dropping the moment she saw you on the ground, blood leaking into the Attic floors, the attic that she had helped you clean up, that she spent time with you in.

Rosie's eyes locked onto your godfather, bloody machete in hand, her mouth opened, revealing her razor sharp teeth.

Blood was splattered across the walls, Rosie wiped blood from her mouth with a handkerchief before kneeling down next to you and gently lifting you up into her lap,

Your eyes were glossy, and blood covered you.

You smiled up at her as she gently brushed away the hair from your face.

You tried to sit up but couldn't,

Rosie rubbed your back, trying to make you comfortable, unsure of what she could say to soothe you, you were dying and she could do much to stop it.

"Yes [Name]?"

"Auntie Rosie?"

"I,-" you take a painful breath, your last word privileges being revoked

"Shh, it's alright don't strain yourself, Close your eyes and rest dearie."

She said pulling you closer, rocking you gently in her arms until you breathed your last.

The door opened to the empty Emporium, Rosie sat in a chair writing down a grocery list,

"I'm sorry but the emporium's closed now!" She shouted over not looking up from her list.

"Auntie Rosie?"

Her head snapped over, eyes filling up with tears as she saw the very child that had died in her arms months ago, the child that she had adopted as her own, standing in her emporium with a nervous smile on their lovely face, the child she cared for had ended up below with her.

"[Name]? Oh my stars! my dear [name]!"

She got up from her seat, rushing over to embrace you, wrapping her arms around you as tears gathered up in your eyes.

"I missed you Auntie Rosie."

"I missed ya too Darlin', now-" she broke the hug and held your shoulders

"Let's get you settled in shall we? Are you hungry? I think we have some leftover pinkie fingers."

"I forgot you were a cannibal."

Rosie had prepared you a room, far better than the attic, because it was a legit room, with proper insulation.

You were staring in a mirror taking in your new appearance when Rosie knocked on the door,

"Sweetheart may I come in?"

"Sure! Come on in''

Rosie walked in and placed papers in front of you,

"Be a dear and sign these please"

"is this a contract for my soul?"

"Close! It's adoption papers, sign them."

Good evening folks, I crave sleep, also my apologies this was requested ages ago and I just now got to it, hope you enjoyed even though it's messy, I just killed off the reader the angst isn't that angsty

I wrote the angst first then everything else

[realmackross]

PARTIES: @howdy-cowpoke, @realmackross TIME: Evening (after call to Taylor), September 17th SUMMARY: Monty has a heart-to-heart with Mack. WARNINGS: Mental Health tw (just in case!) PREVIOUS THREADS: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - End.

Monty had been so kind as to let Mackenzie crash at his farm. It had been an escape and a way not to have to face everything bad she’d ever done in her life. There had been much hesitancy in wanting to leave, as much as she knew she’d have to go back and face the consequences of what she’d done in Wicked’s Rest - which she still wasn’t sure what the extent of it was. Who had she hurt or worse…killed? Apology Tour 2023 was going to have to happen soon, and she wasn’t looking forward to it. 

As she sat at the kitchen table moving a spoon around aimlessly in a bowl of brain stir fry, her own concoction, Mackenzie thought about how she was going to approach anyone she ever cared about again. Things with Winter didn’t go the way she had hoped they would, and now, she felt even lonelier than she had before ever coming to Wicked’s Rest. Maybe it would be best if she just left the town altogether and found a more remote place to stay, like Alaska or even the forests of Russia. There wouldn’t be any risk of harming anyone she had grown attached to, and if she died or had zombie brain rot out in the literal middle of nowhere it wouldn’t matter. But she knew she couldn’t keep potentially hurting or actually hurting the people she loved. Brody had been enough for a lifetime and then some.

—

While she had eventually come back into her own personality, it was clear to Monty that the consequences of her unnaturally-induced hunger and subsequent rampage still very much haunted her, and it was a feeling he knew all too well. 

He’d left to go grab some bags of feed from the farm supply store, offering her to come with, but she had gently refused. She was going to make herself something to eat, she’d said. So he’d gone alone, and as he walked back into the house now, hanging his hat by the front door and kicking off his boots, he rounded the corner into the kitchen to find her sitting at the table poking at said lunch, looking miserable. 

“Hola,” he interrupted her thoughts in a soft voice, hesitating a moment before pulling out a chair to sit near her. “How are you holding up, niña?”

—

Mackenzie jumped when she heard Monty’s voice. Her mind had been so far away. And even more so now that she knew her little vacation, if you wanted to call it that, was coming to an end, “Huh? Oh, hey, Monty.” She sent a small smile in his direction, before letting out a sigh and pushing the bowl of mush away from her, “If I’m being honest, not that great. I think…no, I know I did some horrible things during my reign of terror on Wicked’s Rest, I just don’t know to what extent. I can’t remember anything except touching that stupid flat rock.” She had been keeping her eye on social media and had seen a few things. She had also seen Taylor doing a horrible job at posing as her, which had led to them having a little discussion. But that was the easy part to clean up. The hard part would be facing all the people whose lives she had ruined, especially Winter.

“How do you do it? How do you keep going and own up to what you did? What if I killed someone else?” Mackenzie’s smile dropped, “I just…I don’t know what to do, Monty, except run. I ran the last time I did something horrible, and here I am again, seriously thinking about leaving for good. I can’t keep hurting the people I care about. I’ve already lost the most important person in the world. The man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with and start a family with…” She grew quiet as a single tear had managed to creep out of her eye and down her pale cheek.

—

It was a tough question. Especially since he too would just run away from his problems, until recently. Until he’d met Alan and been provided a reason to stay in one place. 

“Well, first of all, I think you must remember to be kinder to yourself,” Monty offered, folding his arms and leaning them on the table in front of him as he looked at her. “It is one thing to purposefully harm people, but what happened to you… Mack, that was not your fault. You can’t punish yourself like it was your fault.” Once again, he was the king of giving sound advice that he himself would never follow. “As for running…” The zombie let out a sigh and shrugged. “I understand that you feel like there’s no other choice. I often… felt the same way. I often ran when something like this happened. When I went too long without eating, trying to spare the people around me, only to end up hurting them three times as badly at the end of it.” And that was his fault, to some extent. It was an action born from concern, but it was his decision. “Touching the Flat and everything that came after, though…” He shook his head. “It is different. And let me tell you, Mack, if you have found reasons to stay, then you should stay. Those reasons, those people, they are worth it. And if they’re the right sort of people for you to keep in your life, they will understand that none of this was your fault.” 

He felt… sad. Sad that she was going through this, sad for all the lives he’d missed out on for so many years because of his own fear. Because he’d never had someone to tell him these things. He had to make sure she understood.

“Don’t end up like I was, mi amiga. Alone for a century, wandering, miserable and tired and hungry. Do not do that to yourself.” He reached a hand out, offering contact if she wanted it with his palm facing up. “I have a friend who makes regular… deliveries for me. I can set a portion of that aside for you, as well as a portion of what we harvest from the animals. I can help, if you will let me. Being fed will keep most of these issues at bay, and… well, I would maybe suggest not touching any more strange rocks, eh?”

—

Mackenzie listened intently to the older zombie. He had lived quite the undead life so far, and she knew he had to at least have some experience in this area. Of course hearing the words to be kind to herself had been a lot harder to take in than she had imagined it would be. Mostly, because she had just lost her friendship with Winter. The wound was still highly fresh and at this rate she wasn’t sure it would ever really heal, especially if Winter didn’t want her around. But she knew that Monty was right. None if it had been her fault. She could blame herself all day, but she didn’t ask to become a zombie. She never asked to die on the set of her job or to hurt Brody or anybody she had encountered. When the virus keeping her alive took control, she was powerless. All she could do was warn people ahead of time, but not knowing much about herself hadn’t given her the chance to warn the man she wanted to marry and grow old with. It just happened.

She continued to listen to him. Mackenzie couldn’t imagine all the things he had seen in his undead lifetime. But here he was, much much older than she was and still kind and generous. He hadn’t lost himself, like she was afraid would eventually come each time she woke up feeling a little less like the bright and bubbly person she once was. And she had found people that she was starting to care about here: Alex, Parker, Milo, Cass, and so many other people. And she still loved Winter. She would always love her and care about her, even if the medium didn’t want anything to do with her, but it was facing the consequences of her actions that had also scared her deeply.

Mackenzie’s eyes moved up to look into his warm brown hues. They were soft and held genuine concern for the situation she was going through. Did she want to starve herself? Did she really want to run and be further from everything she ever knew and loved?

“I don’t want to be alone forever, Monty. I’m just scared of the consequences. Not everybody out there knows what I am or that my intentions were completely out of my control. What if they want to burn me alive or chop off my head or whatever it is that they do to take care of people like us?” Mackenzie noticed his hand and reached out for it, gripping it tightly. “I know that I did bad things that I’m going to have to be responsible for. I just don’t know how to face those things.” She paused for a moment thinking about his offer, before answering, “And my assistant, Taylor, she actually does a pretty good job of supplying me with food. I don’t ask where she gets it, because I don’t want to know, but thank you. Thank you for everything. Of course, I may be back at your doorstep sooner than you think if I’m shunned out of town.” It was partly a joke, but mostly not out of the pure fear that lived inside of her.

—

“I understand the fear, I really do,” Monty offered empathetically, placing another hand over the top of the one Mack had given him. “But… you are protected somewhat by the denial of the law in this town. All the strange things that happen that they can’t explain.. just get brushed under the rug. Animal attacks. It’s always… animal attacks,” he almost laughed, refraining only because Mack was so understandably upset about the situation. “As for… hunters, well, that is a bit more tricky. But… if it offers you any comfort, I know there are people that would protect you from them. Myself included.” He wasn’t sure how useful he’d be in a fight with a slayer, truthfully, but there was always just the option of going for the throat. Of course he’d rather avoid confrontation if at all possible.

“And facing what you’ve done, well…” He had to pause to really think, realizing that he’d never actually considered how he himself dealt with it. He’d killed people before to be certain, and it always filled him with immense guilt. “That is… hard. You will carry it with you always. I suppose what I do… well, I just try to do as much as I can to make up for it. Which I can’t, but I can at least try to get close. Helping people, being selfless and caring and supportive… it’s all you really can do. Try to leave this world better than it was when it was handed to you. Does that… make sense?”

—

Of course he knew the fear. He had been living this life for a hell of a lot longer than she had. If anyone knew the ins and outs of being a zombie, it had to be him, “I have noticed that. I’ve been checking social media and news sites lately, and I was somewhat surprised. Have they always been this way?” Hunters? Mackenzie had totally forgotten about hunters. Considering she had unknowingly just faced one and survived. But she couldn’t put the people she cared about in danger to defend her from something, who she could probably fend off herself with all the training she had. “I can’t let anybody put themselves in danger for me. You included. Besides, I’m a black belt with weapons training. I think I can handle myself.” She gave him a soft smile.

It’s funny, because Alex had said the same thing just a few days prior. Helping people and trying to do good and be good. It had already been something she found enjoyment in, but now knowing that she was doing it to try and counteract the harm she had done seemed to dampen the enjoyment part. She didn’t want to live her life in debt because of the people she hurt, but she had to do something. Sitting at home alone wasn’t solving anything, and the more she was alone, the more her mental health took a toll, “Alex said something like that the other day. She came by. We talked. I just want to be a good person, and not hurt people.” She sighed, “Oh, and I drank your apple cider she brought you. It was good from what little I could taste. Sorry.” Her mood had lightened slightly by evidence of the few jokes she had been poorly making. “I guess I just have to figure out where I start, and I know that won’t come until I’m home, right?”

— 

“I suppose so… that’s what I hear, anyway. It must be why this place is such a haven for most supernatural beings.” While Monty wasn’t sure if he trusted that she could handle herself, simply because he’d seen the brutality that hunters were capable of, he decided to leave it be for the moment. That wasn’t what this conversation was about, and besides… confidence would get you far. Perhaps his concern was born more from being a coward, himself. Mack didn’t seem to be built like that. 

Her apology made him chuckle and he gave her hand a firm squeeze before letting it go. “Right,” he agreed. “It might help you to talk to someone about these feelings of guilt, someone more… qualified than I am to give advice. Of course… the details will have to be changed, but still. That is what Alan was for me, sometimes. Someone to talk to, someone to give me advice and help me get my head on straight. It was helpful.” He gave her a stern look and a nod of his head before adding, “Just do not let yourself become isolated. And if you feel that may be happening, well… you know you are always welcome here with us. You are not alone, mi amiga. Not anymore.”

[revivisection]

bracelet tour

in no particular order, except it's in somewhat of a particular order. kind of a long one, don't click the read more if you don't want to read more

preamble

structured by name, picture, description, story/extra information, and standard location. you don't have to read anything just look at the pictures <3 piling them on one arm is just for the pic i don't actually wear them in that specific configuration

1. "rave bracelet"

made of somewhat malleable plastic, translucent in the middle with glitter that's slowly become more and more unevenly dispersed, outlined with pink on the edges.

i don't really know why i call it my rave bracelet, i'm not going to any raves, it might've said something on the packaging? it was 50 cents at the dollar store and my friend bought it for me on their birthday. i'm such a good friend. it featured in two of my high school art projects because it's such a powerful symbol of friendship. sometimes i'll squeeze it when i'm feeling anxious

standard location: base of left arm, at the very bottom. it can go up to like half my bicep because i'm a scrawny bitch

2. mori from ouran high school host club

a blue rubber bracelet with blue roses and mori ohshc printed on it

i had to google his name. i've never seen ohshc. purchased at hot topic in a pack with the other characters on a group mall outing, i was assigned this guy for lack of a more fitting character. i think it's pretty funny, maybe i should watch the show at some point? who knows, i'm pretty bad at watching long form media

standard location: base of left arm, second in command, above the rave bracelet.

3. pompompurin

a fishtail rainbow loom bracelet made from alternating white and yellow bands. in the middle is attached a charm of pompompurin

made the same day as my corvo's slut bracelet. my best friend assembled this and a matching cinnamoroll one for herself. i'm going to be honest i like cinnamoroll more, but i have accepted pompompurin into my life.

standard location: left arm. he hangs above mori, flat and facing me. if my arms are down, he's upside down.

4. black and red fishtail rainbow loom

what the title says.

also made by my best friend, but earlier. i don't really wear this one anymore because i had one in the same colour that said "vampir" (as in. the character from dick fight island. we read dick fight island and then she made bracelets for a couple of us with the names of the characters on them) but it broke </3 rip vampir i don't remember what you did at all besides being in the dick fight on the island

standard location: retired

5. black and red hearts

a heart friendship bracelet made from craft string. the hearts are red and the background is black.

i've made like 14 of these things in different colours. i'm not sure on the exact number, but most of them were for my friends. we all get one in our own colour scheme :) of course, mine is black and red, because of the my chemical romance poisoning. this whole thing started when my mom gave me a big pack of thread intended for friendship bracelet making, and i said, ok sure why not. they're all size adjustable, so you don't need to tie anything.

standard location: left arm, 3rd from the top, always has to be facing the way it is in the above picture (with the top of the hearts facing my left)

6. green and purple hearts

a heart friendship bracelet made from craft string. the hearts are purple and the background is green.

the latest of these specific heart ones that i made, alongside one that's inversed (purple with green hearts). me and the bestie are going joker mode 👍 also funny because i was called the joker (specifically jared leto joker) once by a fourteen year old trying to bully me

standard location: left arm, above the black and red hearts, also always has to be oriented with the top of the hearts facing left.

7. red flowers (friendship-bracelets.net pattern #9173)

red flowers on a black vine-like stem on a white background. kind of reminds me of the rose health bar in alice: madness returns

second non-heart bracelet i made if my friendship-bracelets.net account is to be believed, made this one just cause i like how it looks. the edges curl up on themselves but it's fine if you just flatten them out.

standard location: i don't wear this one that much, but it sometimes appears on the left arm. sometimes on the right. just, somewhere in the middle, wherever i think it looks right. flowers face left when on the left arm, right when on the right.

8. this bracelet is transgender (pattern #106540)

half blue and half pink, with white diamonds with alternating blue and pink interiors.

i just made this one because of the colour scheme it came in. the pattern's also nice i guess

standard location: same as the previous one, not always worn and location not set. i don't even have a preference for which side is up, though i think the blue side usually is.

9. emoticon mice (pattern #3228)

white emoticon mice on a blue background

<:3)~ mice. or maybe they're rats. who knows, they've been abstracted to smiley face levels. i wanted rat friends like i summoned them with devouring swarm. i don't like this one that much because it's so goddamn uneven, idk if you can see it that clearly but it's super obvious when it's flat. i am so ashamed of how wiggly this is that i didn't upload a picture onto friendship-bracelets.net when i finished it.

standard location: not always worn and location not set. the mice face my left when on the left arm, and right when on the right arm.

10. papa's games new years decoration lookin-ass (pattern #110541)

rainbow x's and infinity symbols on a black background.

i'm pretty sure i'm autistic. me and the boys out here experiencing patterns symptoms and behaviours. anyways that's why i made this one

standard location: not always worn and location not set, but i think i prefer it on the right arm.

11. corvo's slut

a black and pink fishtail rainbow loom bracelets that says "corvo's slut" in blue, purple, and pink cube letter beads

you've already seen this one but you can see it again! it's kinda hard to stretch it out so all of the words can be seen since the letters take up more than half of the whole bracelet. very funny. i love this thing, my friend was a genius when she suggested this one. turned the pic sideways so it matches the others.

standard location: top of the left arm, above everything else. this is cause it was pretty tight but i stretched it out, it's still kinda tight tho.

12. misfits fiend skull (pattern #2902)

white fiend skull on black background

a little convex??? my string tension is garbage. it's also pretty thick at 25 strings so i got creative with how i tied the ends. this one makes me think of leyendecker because i was watching a video about him when finishing it.

standard location: don't always wear this one but i wear it more often than some of the others. can go on either arm but mostly the left, above pompompurin and below the hearts. top of skull faces left when on left arm faces right when on right arm you get the pattern right.

13. woodstock (pattern #5082)

woodstock from peanuts on a black background

i just finished this one today so i'd have it for this post. matching with a snoopy i made for my friend months ago. finally, snoopy is no longer alone. we also have snoopy and woodstock plushies (i'm woodstock she's snoopy) with magnets in their heads so they can stick together

standard location: i literally just made this like 2 hours ago. i'll put it on my left arm tho, between pompompurin and the hearts. he has to be oriented exactly like he is in the picture etc. you know.

postamble

ok that took longer than i expected bye have fun the end. one time one of my friends said that i should sew them all together to make one big arm warmer and i told him i already thought about that and he said "oh no am i becoming as crazy as you are"

[rockislandadultreads]

Book Recommendations: New Nonfiction eAudiobooks on Libby

Looking for free access to eBooks or eAudiobooks? Check out Libby, a service from the Rock Island Public Library (RIPL) that can be accessed with your RIPL card number! You can log in to Libby through our website or download it as an app from the Apple Store or Google Play Store.

In the Shadow of the Mountain by Silvia Vasquez-Lavado

Endless ice. Thin air. The threat of dropping into nothingness thousands of feet below. This is the climb Silvia Vasquez-Lavado braves in her page-turning, pulse-raising memoir following her journey to Mount Everest.

A Latina hero in the elite macho tech world of Silicon Valley, privately, she was hanging by a thread. Deep in the throes of alcoholism, hiding her sexuality from her family, and repressing the abuse she'd suffered as a child, she started climbing. Something about the brute force required for the ascent—the risk and spirit and sheer size of the mountains and death's close proximity—woke her up. She then took her biggest pain as a survivor to the biggest mountain: Everest.

"The Mother of the World," as it's known in Nepal, allows few to reach her summit, but Silvia didn't go alone. She gathered a group of young female survivors and led them to base camp alongside her. It was never easy. At times hair-raising, nerve-racking, and always challenging, Silvia remembers the acute anxiety of leading a group of novice climbers to Everest's base, all the while coping with her own nerves of summiting. But, there were also moments of peace, joy, and healing with the strength of her fellow survivors and community propelling her forward.

Under the Skin by Linda Villarosa

In 2018, Linda Villarosa's New York Times Magazine article on maternal and infant mortality among black mothers and babies in America caused an awakening. Hundreds of studies had previously established a link between racial discrimination and the health of Black Americans, with little progress toward solutions. But Villarosa's article exposing that a Black woman with a college education is as likely to die or nearly die in childbirth as a white woman with an eighth grade education made racial disparities in health care impossible to ignore.

Now, in Under the Skin, Linda Villarosa lays bare the forces in the American health-care system and in American society that cause Black people to “live sicker and die quicker” compared to their white counterparts. Today's medical texts and instruments still carry fallacious slavery-era assumptions that Black bodies are fundamentally different from white bodies. Study after study of medical settings show worse treatment and outcomes for Black patients. Black people live in dirtier, more polluted communities due to environmental racism and neglect from all levels of government. And, most powerfully, Villarosa describes the new understanding that coping with the daily scourge of racism ages Black people prematurely. Anchored by unforgettable human stories and offering incontrovertible proof, Under the Skin is dramatic, tragic, and necessary reading.

River of the Gods by Candice Millard 

For millennia the location of the Nile River’s headwaters was shrouded in mystery. In the 19th century, there was  a frenzy of interest in ancient Egypt. At the same time, European powers sent off waves of explorations intended to map the unknown corners of the globe – and extend their colonial empires.

Richard Burton and John Hanning Speke were sent by the Royal Geographical Society to claim the prize for England. Burton spoke twenty-nine languages, and was a decorated soldier. He was also mercurial, subtle, and an iconoclastic atheist. Speke was a young aristocrat and Army officer determined to make his mark, passionate about hunting, Burton’s opposite in temperament and beliefs.

From the start the two men clashed. They would endure tremendous hardships, illness, and constant setbacks. Two years in, deep in the African interior, Burton became too sick to press on, but Speke did, and claimed he found the source in a great lake that he christened Lake Victoria. When they returned to England, Speke rushed to take credit, disparaging Burton. Burton disputed his claim, and Speke launched another expedition to Africa to prove it. The two became venomous enemies, with the public siding with the more charismatic Burton, to Speke’s great envy. The day before they were to publicly debate,Speke shot himself.

Yet there was a third man on both expeditions, his name obscured by imperial annals, whose exploits were even more extraordinary. This was Sidi Mubarak Bombay, who was enslaved and shipped from his home village in East Africa to India. When the man who purchased him died, he made his way into the local Sultan’s army, and eventually traveled back to Africa, where he used his resourcefulness, linguistic prowess and raw courage to forge a living as a guide. Without Bombay and men like him, who led, carried, and protected the expedition, neither Englishman would have come close to the headwaters of the Nile, or perhaps even survived.

And Finally by Henry Marsh 

As a retired brain surgeon, Henry Marsh thought he understood illness, but he was unprepared for the impact of his diagnosis of advanced cancer. And Finally explores what happens when someone who has spent a lifetime on the frontline of life and death finds himself contemplating what might be his own death sentence.

As he navigates the bewildering transition from doctor to patient, he is haunted by past failures and projects yet to be completed, and frustrated by the inconveniences of illness and old age. But he is also more entranced than ever by the mysteries of science and the brain, the beauty of the natural world and his love for his family. Elegiac, candid, luminous and poignant, And Finally is ultimately not so much an audiobook about death, but an audiobook about life and what matters in the end.

[birchwoodrain]

moon(cake)

It’s mid-autumn, the season of heat and humidity, of damp walls and sticky furniture, a trademark of the Vietnamese climate. With September brings an excitement felt by every child, in anticipation of the annual Mid-Autumn Festival. The streets light up as soon as night descends, revealing market stalls lined with moon cakes, candies, fruits, and lanterns. The thrumming of drums and ceremonial songs echo in the streets, and suddenly I am twelve again, so light and vivid like a fever dream. 

I am in my grandfather’s house, the crooked old thing filled with orchids and porcelain plates. There is a small metal gate that creaks loudly when touched, which leads to a door that opens right into the living room, where a scratched glass table takes up the center. Against the wall is a tattered brown leather sofa; a cabinet of mysterious medicines and trinkets stands next to a glitching, cube-shaped TV. Every Mid-Autumn festival, I would visit him in his home and spend time together, whether in the garden admiring his orchid vines, or in his bedroom, flipping through vintage photo albums. I much prefer this comfort over the chaos and chattering in the streets. Remnants of my memories resurface: it’s early in the evening during the festival, and I’m having dinner in his dim kitchen, serving him a bowl of lukewarm tomato rice that he prepared in his faded rice cooker. 

“How are you nowadays? When are you bringing home a boyfriend?” he probes. 

“I’m in good health, and I don’t know, grandpa,” I reply. 

“What nonsense. I’ve been wooing girls left and right since I was a teen,” he says, which prompts my parents to laugh. 

The night always ends with me eating all of his moon cakes and making a mess of empty sunflower seeds on the coffee table, before leaving as a sleepy lump in my father’s arms. Before I am out the door, he pushes the hair out of my forehead and whispers, “I love you. I want us both to eat well.” This was his love language—stored in gentle hands, in small smiles, in meals that taste like affection. 

That was the last Mid-Autumn Festival I would ever feel his gentle hands. Looking back now, perhaps I should have engraved him into my mind somehow, before he got diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and became paralyzed. The house lays quiet, almost cold to the touch. 

A few years later, and there is a hospital bed in the middle of the living room now, with a body to match it. Soft breaths harmonize with the dripping of the IV. The silence stretches between my grandfather and I like a thread, and I feel suffocated, cornered by the glaring metal bed-frame that juts out between time-worn furniture. Through the windows, I watch the children outside as they chase each other around, their drumming and chanting in the festival failing to break his slumber. He passed away the summer I turned 14, and I was shocked by how little I have thought of him these past few years. 

It’s a yearning that can only be described as nhớ. In Vietnamese, to miss and to remember share the same word. 

Grandpa, sometimes I feel like I miss you more than I remember you. Because here is the thing about grief: it persists, it stains like ink, it is faceless yet insurmountable. It remembers you. But with it comes reminders of a person well-loved. Now, whenever September arrives, I think of the heaviness of the summer heat and the faint smell of home-cooked meals. 

Back in America, the full moon hangs overhead like a white lantern. Under the soft, pale light, I cut myself a slice of mooncake in the smallness of my kitchen. In my mind, I am blowing on the steaming porridge before spoon-feeding him on the hospital bed. In my mind, he sits primly on the brown sofa with an easy smile, back straight, his hands on his knees, posed for a photo. In my mind, he is calloused knuckles and shaky fingers brushing against my forehead, he

is the explosion of mid-autumn fireworks distorted by the television static. For a moment, the weight becomes bearable, and it feels like taking a breath for the first time in years.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Notes: This was originally an English assignment about my memory of a holiday/celebration! I want to clarify that very small pieces in this essay is partially inspired by other writers. Namely, it references a line in Ocean Vuong's On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous where they talk about the significance of the word nhớ in Vietnamese. The second reference is a direct quote from Christopher Citro's poem, "Our Beautiful Life When It's Filled With Shrieks". Reading this piece always makes me sentimental for some reason—food as always been an important love language in my culture. Some details within this essay are fiction/dramatized as an artistic choice, but I don't feel the need to clarify which parts. That's all, hope you enjoyed reading!

[racingtoaredlight]

Goodnight, Sweet Prince

Disclaimer: You don't want to read this...it's brutal. I won't take offense if you don't read, but please keep unrelated comments on the Open Thread that will post shortly.

***

This is my 4th attempt at writing something that Willie 100% deserves, but I keep breaking down and I just can't stop crying. I loved him so much, it's just ripping me apart. I loved him so goddamned much.

I was so proud to be his owner. I fucking hate that term, I just don't know what else to use.

I took him everywhere I could. Everywhere he went, he drew people in...this isn't hyperbole, at least once per week I'd be stopped by someone driving and spend a minute or two chatting about him. He was everything I ever wanted in a dog...from his athleticism to his personality to his sense of humor.

Every day I'd get in my car to go home from work, I'd excitedly start my car and say "I'm comin' Willie!" But now he's gone. He's not there to come home to anymore. I walk around my house looking for him and he's just not there.

***

My past four months have been a form of hell, and I've tried really hard not to bring it here...but it's just really hard when that's all you can think about.

I've known my father was going to die since his two heart attacks on the same weekend seven and a half years ago. Those heart attacks happened a month after my beloved grandmother passed away.

I've talked about my issues with manic depression in the past, as well as openly discussed that I've been a danger to myself in the past.

When I was on that edge, my first thought was "if I die, nobody will take Willie, and he'll end his life in a shelter waiting for anyone to adopt him." How could I do that to him again? Despite the shitstorm going on in my brain, even in that state, thinking of him cut through it enough to bring me back.

I don't say this lightly...if it weren't for Willie, I would not be here.

***

My father is in hospice and will likely pass within a week or so. The past four months have featured numerous trips to the ER, doc visits, tests, you name it...pretty much all week, every other week as the doctors kept trying their best to keep a man with a 6% functioning heart and 11% functioning kidneys alive.

The easy parts were running to his place to water his plants. Or coming over in the morning to make him a milkshake while we listen to music. The hard parts have been hanging up the phone or leaving his place, and the first thing that runs through my mind is "will this be the last conversation we ever have?"

The medium hard parts were running to the grocery store or the pharmacy in between meetings. Or preparing him 3 days worth of food in the 45 minutes I had before a guitar lesson. And 1.5 of those days I'd be throwing out the next time I stopped by.

The hardest part was wondering who'd go first.

I never complained about any of this. I'd do it again for the both of them without a conscious thought because I love them both so much. But it wears on you. Month after month does a toll.

***

I've been doing all of this, on top of an insane pace at work, on almost no sleep.

The vet told me to keep a diary of his health throughout all this. You notice a string of bad days, but the first good day and a half and all of the sudden that concern washes away. Keeping a diary allows you to get a relatively objective look at your dog's health, and notice long-term trends.

Unfortuantely...as I've known with my dad's heart condition, sleep is a big factor...I tracked Willie's sleep and got a wonderful look every day at how little I'd gotten over months. Months.

And I knew I lied in the diary. I didn't want to admit to myself that Willie's condition was getting so much worse...even if I couldn't ignore the 8th straight day he'd wake me up before 3am. Let me put it this way...in the last three months, I've had six full nights of sleep. Another 12 of days he woke me up after 3am. Every other day was a 2-3am wakeup call, and three of those days were no sleep at all.

It wasn't as simple as getting up and letting him outside to relieve his fading bladder...the next hours before I went to work were spent comforting him on the couch, as his increasingly weakening heart pounded like hell to circulate enough blood through his system.

He didn't wake me up all those nights because he had to pee...he woke me up all those nights so that I could make him less afraid of his heart feeling like it was drowning due to an edema. He'd get comforted and calm down to sleep just around the time I had to get up and get ready for work.

And every morning, every day I'd come home from work...whenever I'd leave him...there was a simultaneous terror combined with hope that I'd find him having passed away in slumber. A peaceful, painless, natural death.

***

There were so many good memories of our time together, please don't ever suggest that I'm glossing over them. I am at a certain peace...it was his time, it was a wonderful goodbye, and so many of my friends and family have come to his support, that's brought me to tears separately.

He was a special guy, he touched everyone's life that he met. He was wonderful with children, wonderful with others, terrible with other dogs (but you can't win em all).

Those memories will always come back as long as I still have a functioning brain. Right now is so close though, all I can feel is loneliness.

Over the years, I've shared numerous anecdotes of Willie because I was so proud of him that I wanted that joy to be spread to others. But all I can feel is the pain of having lost my best friend.

There's a common refrain "you don't know what you got until it's gone," or some variation of that. I thought I knew what I had in my relationship with Willie...but given this gigantic empty space in my heart, this giant fucking chasm, I somehow underestimated how much he was giving me.

***

The thing that scares me the most about the future isn't losing my father, it's losing a grasp of joy.

Pretty much everyone here knows I struggle deeply with anger issues and have a darker side that I try really hard to keep tamped down. I talked about this with my therapist yesterday before the vet came over...

Willie was always a bulwark against the darker side of my brain coming to the front. Even in my worst moods, where I'm borderline psychotic, even just looking at him would bring me to a calmer, sustainable place psychologically. "Those" days at work? They bothered me less knowing I'd be on the couch chillin' with my big boy in 15 minutes.

As his condition worsened, so did the vet bills and trips. $100 a pop, $450 for an echocardiogram here, $200 dog cardiologist fees, $180 for a Lasix IV there, $150 every month for his heart medication, $50 per month on all the stuff he needed for his arthritis, and it seriously just goes on and on. Thousands and thousands of dollars over the last four months. Nevermind the car trips there and back that wreaked havoc on his heart...

But I would have done fucking anything for this dog. Anything except selfishly keep him alive when he's telling me he just can't anymore...I knew it was the right thing, and I feel like I fucking completely betrayed and failed him, at a time when he needed me the most.

That helpless feeling..."I can't do fucking shit"...I'd find myself at 3am googling "if you love a dog enough will it live forever?" You know the answer. I knew the answer. That's where I'm still at.

***

I should've quit writing this paragraphs ago...I'm just fucking sobbing and this isn't doing me any good. And I can't just talk about the good times, because all I can think of is that those times are gone. Every time I think of something beautiful or joyful, it's immediately poisoned by an onset of sobbing because I miss him so much already.

You all know how much Willie meant to me. I don't have to make the case for that...I loved that dog more than I've loved anything in my life. And I don't give a shit if you think that's sad or immature or lame.

I kept quitting this and coming back because he deserves it. He deserves to be commemorated for the tremendous companion he was...and as much as I'd love to be able to write that piece that makes everyone happy and celebrates him, I just can't write that piece right now. The joyful memories will come when I'm in a healthier state, I'm certain of it.

But I can't keep writing this and just crying all over myself. He deserved a much better eulogy than this, but this is the best that I could do. It feels like I failed him already yesterday and now I feel like I'm failing him again.

Willie was the greatest dog in the world, my best friend, my savior, and adopting him was the single most rewarding thing I've ever done in my life. I'll love him forever no matter what. I'm just really hurting right now.

***

During this time, I've been trying to think of something to preserve his memory with what few skills I possess, and I have no idea how to do this or even get it started, but I want to start a non-profit called The Willie Fund where I can link with pit rescues across the country and provide funds for palliative care and dignified, in-home euthenasia for those in their communities that need it. I don't know where to start but I have to do something.

And thank you guys for letting me share Willie with you all these years. I'll be back at some point.

*The pic at the top was taken months ago, not yesterday...it's just my favorite serious picture of the two of us and thought it was a respectful image to remember our relationship by. I loved him so much and I know he loved me too.

[gravitasmalfunction]

Zero waste bag quilt

Summary:

Leftover threads, yarn, waste fabric and fabric scraps too small to be usable get cut up to form the quilt filling. (If you are recycling previously used fabric, make sure it’s thoroughly washed and dried before you cut it up.)

Fabric waste and leftovers of a useable size are cut into regular size rectangles or squares (the book recommends 5-6 inches by 3 inches).

The rectangles are sewn on three sides, filled to about a third and no more than half, and then closed up.

The quilt itself is comprised of these small bags joined into a large rectangle.

Because it will be heavier and denser than a contemporary ready-made, store bought polyester quilt, make sure to shake and air the quilt regularly.

Source: Needlework Economies: A Book of Mending and Making with Oddments and Scraps, edited by Flora Klickmann. Available at gutenberg.org

Full excerpt below the cut.

The Economy Quilt.

Bedclothes become an expensive item when there are several beds for young people to be made up, as well as those for their elders. Yet warmth is essential, if their health is to be maintained. In the winter, there usually comes a night of sudden cold, so raw and so intense, that it seems next to impossible to put too much on the beds. Every spare blanket is turned out, and every eider-down, and still there is not enough! Next morning someone is sure to say they never got warm all night! Of course, eider-downs are ideal. They are warm without being heavy. But real eider-downs are expensive. Here is a substitute that was popular in our grandmothers’ day. It is simply a quilt formed of small bags, sewn together like patchwork, each bag containing a certain amount of snippets and clippings. Very simple, isn’t it? And yet these quilts, that cost practically nothing, are invaluable in the cold weather. Put one of these over the outside of the bed, and the sleeper keeps as snug and warm as though under a couple of down quilts. One great advantage of this quilt is the ease with which it can be made. A child can always run up a little bag; a child can also cut up snippets, if it is old enough to be allowed to use a scissors. Mother can run round a few bags with her sewing machine, just before putting it away after doing needlework. In this way the bags accumulate in a surprising manner; and joining them together, a few at a time, either by hand or with the machine, is not laborious or brain-wearing work.

The Method I Always Adopt. For some years now, I have made it a rule always to have one of these quilts on hand. If I do not need it myself, when it is finished, I always know someone who can put it to good use. Any woman who has an elastic family and a non-elastic purse, is glad of one for a gift. I save every scrap of material that would otherwise be wasted. If it is not new, I have it washed and thoroughly dried. All this waste goes into a bag that I keep hanging up in a cupboard in my bedroom. I never allow a large amount to accumulate, lest moth should get at it. I have seldom more than a couple of handfuls at one time waiting to be dealt with. On my chest of drawers I keep a box. In this there is always a pair of sharp scissors. When I have a few moments idle—between the lights when it is too dark to see much else, or when my eyes are too tired to do work requiring close attention—I cut up a few of the scraps from the bag into snippets about an inch square sometimes smaller, never larger. I put these in the box.

Worked in Sections. Then again, whenever I have any bits from dressmaking, or mending, or darning, it has become second nature with me to cut them up there and then into snippets, and put them in the box. In fact, I always have the snippet box on the table beside my work box when I am sewing, and the bits go in as a matter of course as I go along. It keeps me so tidy. Everything comes in useful, even fragments of darning wool, ravellings and basting threads! I save any scraps of material large enough to make the bags; a useful size is five or six inches by three inches. I run up three sides of these when I have a spare moment; put in a small handful of snippets, and close up the end. These I put in a drawer till I have time to join them together. I always machine mine together, as it is the quickest way. Do not fill the bags anything like full, or the quilt will be impossibly heavy. If you fill the bag about a third full, or at most a very loose half-full, that will be quite enough. Each little bag just wants a slight thickness inside, to give the extra warmth, much the same as we sometimes line quilts with a layer of cotton wool between two cotton covers. The reason we put the clippings in little bags, instead of into one bag, is to keep the stuff evenly distributed over the surface of the bed. Otherwise, every time the sleeper turned over, or disarranged the coverings, there would be the chance of all the clippings slipping over, and collecting themselves on the one side or the other of the bed, or possibly all falling to the foot of the bed. A quilt made of the bags, not too full, can be shaken and kept thoroughly aired. Almost any sort of material can be used for the bags, provided it is not too delicate in colour, as one does not want to have a quilt of this sort frequently going to the cleaners. Strong stuffs are best, such as cretonne, serge, stout print, sateen—anything in fact that will stand some wear. Mix cotton clippings with wool clippings in each bag. Obviously the quilt will not need any lining, as the back will be fairly neat. If you like, you can finish the edge with a cord; but I myself always aim to get the outside bags all of one colour scheme; this in itself makes a certain finish—a kind of border—and I just leave it at that. After all, these quilts are not for ornament so much as stern utility; nevertheless, they can be made to look really pretty, if a little care and taste is expended on the placing of the various colours and designs.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

tw: sexual assault, betreyal(?), puking, self harm mention, stuff like that. Sorry if it's too descriptive im really shaken

Im ftm and aroace and moved to a new town a while back and I've been trying to make some more friends so I've been going to events around town that I find interesting (mostly book related stuff, movies, etc). A while ago I went to a poet's work shop and met a guy that I thought could be a friend and we have some cool conversations about intellectual stuff.

Yesterday something similar happened where there was a small event at a book store and there was a guy and I thought we could be friends (and I though I passed? I have a gender neutral name) so we traded numbers and agreed to meet up around the same area today to continue chatting about the books we've been reading and some psychology related stuff

but he didn't see me as like another guy friend and i guess I don't pass as much as I think I do (I've been on T for 3 years and will soon get top surgery) because he thought I was a girl. I was walking back to my bus stop after we had lunch and talked and..

He pulled me around a corner into an alley area and started making out with me and I tried pushing him away but he really grabbed onto me and wouldn't stop touching me and like it kept on happening and it triggered a flashback for me and I end up freezing up a lot during those (sibling sexual abuse when I was younger) and he pushed me down and forced me to suck him and

My phone went off because there was an alarm to remind me to go get groceries on there but it was loud enough a distraction that I could bite him and pretend to answer the call and I ran out of there and blocked his number on my phone but I feel so gross and horrible and I can't get the taste out of my mouth and I threw up multiple times and had a panic attack

When I got back to the room I'm renting I brushed my teeth enough times that my gums were almost bleeding and I washed my hands with antibacterial soap and a ton of hand sanitizer and I chugged mouth wash and threw up again but I feel so fucking bad and I thought my ptsd was getting better but it's so bad and I hate myself so much for thinking I could make friends and I hate cis guys so much

is there anything I can do to make this easier? any good distractions? I tried asking my friend if I could go over to her place and hang out but she said she's too busy and I don't really have anyone else I can go ask so I'm just trying to distract myself and not self harm. On the bus ride home every time I heard a man talking I wanted to just beat them up or do something just I can't stand it

Do you have any advice or anything? please I really just want to wipe the day from my mind completely everything feels so bad and wrong and disgusting and I can't stand the thought of wearing anything less than 3+ layers of clothing that covers me completely and gloves but just the feeling of my own tongue touching my lips makes me gag. I'm sorry this is so messy I just really really really hate everything right now

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what happened to you. Everything you feel about what happened is valid. Please know that you are not alone.

For your own mental health, I recommend looking into getting a therapist if that is accessible or affordable for you, and if you don't already have one. Therapy can help you process this experience in a healthy way with the guidance of a professional. You deserve the highest quality care, especially during this time.

It's unfortunately important, especially as a trans person, to have whatever tools you may need to defend yourself, whether that's pepper spray or mace, rape alarm, brass knuckles, or personal safety apps like Rave Guardian or Sister that track your location and send alerts to selected contacts if you're not home by a certain time. It's also vitally important to go with a friend or someone you know if you're meeting up with someone you don't know very well.

I saw this thread that reminded me of this situation, so I wonder if that resonates with you. I also found this resource on how to practice self care after assault.

Please remember to be patient and gentile with yourself as you move forward. You went through a lot and you deserve to treat yourself with kindness. Try your best to practice self-care, whatever that means for you.

I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[jiamina]

V.

[lexa-lives-in-us]

Saving Tips for Hard Times

I found this old document where I collected a series of tips to save money. This is all part of my experience of when I was near homeless, and some work depending on where you live, some don’t. Here we go.

BILLS:

1. The optimum temperature for refrigerator operation is 5°C, and -18°C for freezer operation. As a rule of thumb, for each additional degree of refrigeration output about six percent more electricity is used.

2. Unplug your appliances. Lamps, microwave, tv, computers etc. They don't need to be plugged until you use them, and it saves energy to keep them unplugged. Therefore, money.

3. Do homework for phone companies and internet plans. Call them! Often they are toll free and if you mentioned that you were already with them or thinking of going with them and then found out another company had a better deal, they could offer you deals for lower prices. I had to do it all the time for my phone, until they couldn't really offer anything better.

4. BIKE. Invest in a used bike if you can, especially for the warmer months. It offsets the transit costs and better your health.

5. WALK. That's the same as the bike, honestly.

6. Pay your bills on time, you will avoid late fees which can up to HUNDREDS of dollars wasted over the course of a year. If you can, set up automatic payments so you don’t forget.

FRIDGE:

1. Every time the refrigerator door is opened, cold air escapes and warm ambient air enters. To compensate for the temperature increase in its interior, the refrigerator must then use energy to bring the temperature back down. Always avoid opening the door unnecessarily and for too long.

2. When defrosting frozen food place it in the refrigerator. Not only does this ensure that the food is carefully defrosted, its presence cools down the refrigerator interior, reducing the amount of work that the compressor has to do, and therefore lowering energy consumption.

3. Never put warm food in the refrigerator as this will heat up the interior, as well as other stored foods. Hot food should always be allowed to cool to room temperature before placing it in the refrigerator

MONEY:

1. Keep all the containers like glass bottles, juice bottles, jars, cans etc. Look for your Return-It depot and have trips to return them. They give back coins for laundry, small expenses etc

2. Use that junk mail. Go through it, find coupons for food, for essentials like toilet paper or shampoo.

3. CHECK. THAT. DOLLARSTORE. They often have things like pasta, ketchup, toilet paper, batteries etc for literally 1 dollar.  Pasta is pasta, toilet paper is toilet paper. Seriously. Don't need to spend 5$ on a shampoo bottle when you can have it for 1/5 of the price.

4. Do homework and check with different banks for which one offers a better plan. Some of them are willing to help out. Sit down with their advisors, find the best solution!

5. Use the envelope system! For example, one envelope with a label “food” the other with “entertainment” the other with “bills”. Then set the right amount of cash for each. That’s what you’re allowed to spend each month. If you realize you need more for food, grab it from the entertainment envelope. Adapt and arrange as needed.

6. If you can, set up an automatic saving (example 50$ every paycheck) for both regular saving AND an emergency fund.

7. Use the 24-Hour Rule. Avoid purchasing expensive or unnecessary items on impulse with a self-imposed 24-hour rule. For any non-essential item, wait 24 hours before purchasing. It’s perfect for online shopping where your items can simply be added to your cart to purchase later.

8. Make a grocery list BEFORE going to the grocery store and STICK to it. You’re going to avoid buying things you don’t really need.

9. DO. NOT. SHOP. WHILE. YOU. ARE. HUNGRY. Or you’ll end up buying food that you actually don’t need just because you feel snacky!

10. Only use ATMs from your bank, or you get charged small fees.

11. Set a “No Spend Day” per week, where you consciously DO NOT spend any money for that day.

12. Ditch the paper: Cutting out paper towels and using cloths and napkins that you can simply wash and reuse is a simple way to save.

13. After you wear clothes, hang them outside your wardrobe, on a door or something. You can air them out a bit, then stick them in the closet without washing. You can basically reuse the same clothes two or three times without having to wash them, sometimes they just need a bit of air and they won’t smell AT ALL.

14. If you don’t own or want to spend money on an iron, hang whatever blouse you need to iron in the bathroom while you shower. The steam will humidify the fabric and straighten it up.

15. Hang stuff to dry. Really don’t need to spend money on the dryer.

16. Sign up to the library. They have so many books and DVDs nowadays. You can also just go, sit at the library and stay warm for a while, so that you don’t have to sit at home and either suffer the cold or use money on your own heat.

17. Budget, budget, budget. Get a lil notebook, write down the monthly expenses, cut what you don’t need. It gets easier with time.

 FOOD:

1.       Make a meal plan. Write 10-14 days worth of dishes that you can do (lunch, dinner, everything you need). You can then toss them around as you go on with your week, but that way you have a pretty clear idea of what you use and the food you go through for how long. It also reduces the risks of getting take out since you already have plans for what to eat.

2.       Cook double! Seriously. Make that dinner and double it up. Leftovers can be frozen or put in the fridge for the day after.

3.       Meal prep. Once a week, prep a bunch of different recipes. Let them cool down, stick them in the freezer. At that point you’ll already have all these meals at the ready to just thaw/microwave or oven up.

4.       You don’t need pop. You don’t need alcohol. You most likely don’t need milk, but go for it if you wanna. Just remember dairy products go bad WAY more quickly than non dairies, so consider getting food and drinks with no dairy in them. Mainly, though. Water. Just drink water. Lots of it too! Sometimes our brain can’t tell the difference between hunger and thirst. You think you’re snacky? Drink some water instead! It’ll quell your hunger.

5.       Freeze fruit! If you think you’re not gonna be able to eat fruit in time, put it in a Tupperware or a ziplock and slap it in the freezer. You’ll be able to then use it for smoothies.

6.       Use the Italian saying “Colazione da re, pranzo da nobili, cena da poveri.” Which quite literally means “Breakfast as a king, lunch as a noble, dinner as a poor.” Breakfast should be very filling, carbs, protein, vitamins. It carries you for the whole day. Lunch should be quite filling too! But supper doesn’t really need a lot of it, and if you REALLY have to skip a meal, skip supper. Your body doesn’t need that much sustenance while sleeping.

7.       This is for the desperate times but I’ve done it, and I would do it again if I ever had to. Go to markets that have like… Fruits and veggies. Talk to them. Ask them “HEY, can I have the fruit/veggie that you have to throw away?” Ask them if you can have the ugly produce, the one that doesn’t look pretty enough to be put out. Or ask them to have whatever extra they have to dump because is past the expiry date. EXPIRY DATE IS USUALLY MUCH LONGER THAN WHAT THE LABEL SAYS. I wouldn’t risk it with dairy stuff or with things that are VERY expired, but one or two days? Totally fine, I promise. And if you have to? Dumpster Dive. Especially at markets with fruit and veggies that have to be sold on the same day (because it’s not considered “fresh” past that day.) Or behind pizza places like Dominos or Panago or whatever chain. They get pizza orders wrong all the time. Just give a peak behind these buildings and look inside their boxes. You have no idea how many times I found perfectly fine pizzas. For free! IF YOU DUMPSTER DIVE, MAKE SURE YOU HAVE GLOVES, A MASK AND PLASTIC BAGS TO PUT YOUR STUFF IN. ONCE AT HOME, DISCARD GLOVES AND WASH PRODUCE THROUGHLY. Also check tumblr for your divers community, they usually know the best spots.

 CLOTHES:

1.       Thrift shop! So many GOOD used clothes are out there! Honestly! My whole wardrobe is thrifted and everything looks brand new. It takes a bit of research and maybe that shirt you liked is not in your size, but you can find EVERYTHING, from socks to bras, at a thrift store. Don’t thrift underwear though. You want to go new with those.

2.       Invest in some needle and thread, then open youtube. There are SO MANY tutorials that teach you how to mend holes in socks and underwear. And really, no one will really notice if a mend is perfectly done or not. After a week, you’ll forget it too! But that prevents you from throwing away clothes that could just be mended a little.

3.       Something doesn’t fit you? Too small, too big? YouTube, homie. They have tutorials on how to fix these kinda things! All you need, again, is needle and thread.

4.       Organize clothes swaps with friends and/or neighbors. Everyone brings clothes they don’t need, put them in a pile. Go through the pile and grab whatever there is. There’s no money exchange, one could go home with 1 item and one could go home with 50 items. Who cares? The extra stuff… DONATE IT TO A SHELTER.

Feel free to add more, and stay safe!

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

[densi-mber]

Christmas Miracles

A/N: I decided to start off the celebration on a high note for Densi so interpreted this prompt creatively.

***

“Hey, we’ve gotten a lot better at this,” Kensi observed as she threaded a new strand of multicolored lights Deeks. He wound them around the middle section of the Christmas tree, moving aside a branch of two.

“I told you it helps when the lights aren’t in a tangled ball,” he teased.

“One time.” Kensi held up a finger for a second, shaking her head. “I didn’t follow the “Marty Deeks Protocol for Storing Christmas Lights” one time and now I will never hear the end of it.”

“I never did get those undone. I wonder what Callen did with them.” Deeks frowned for a second, presumably contemplating the thought of Callen decorating a nonexistent tree.

“I’m pretty sure he threw them away the minute he got home.”

“That’s rude,” Deeks said lightly, surveying his work with a critical eye. “Hm, that’s a little unbalanced.”

Stepping back, Kensi waited while he rearranged some of the lights just so. Based on previous years, Kensi knew that he would fiddle with them until he thought they looked perfectly scattered without leaving any large gaps.

While he finished with that, Kensi started digging through the ornament boxes. Last year, between trying to move, Deeks being at FLETC, and her own faltering mental health, Kensi hadn’t felt much like decorating. At one point, just the thought of putting up a tree and pretending to be cheery made her feel nauseous.

Thankfully, while all their worries weren’t magically gone, she felt in a much better frame of mind to celebrate this year. Deeks seemed in better spirits too without FLETC hanging over his head.

She pulled out a couple of large, bulbous green, red, and purple ornaments that had been a present from Deeks’ mom. They were almost pretty, in a garish kind of way. Kensi wasn’t totally convinced that Roberta hadn’t given them as a gag gift.

“Hey, where do you want to put your mom’s ornaments?” she asked, turning with one dangling in each hand. Deeks sucked in a deep breath as he scrunched up his face in consideration. They came across the same question every single year.

“Near the bottom so they don’t break any branches, but not so low that my mom thinks we’re dissing her gift. And definitely not towards the back since last year she accused us of hiding them,” he decided. “But not so obvious that if Nell and Eric happen to visit, it makes them wonder where their ornament is.”

“Oh yeah, definitely not.” Kensi shuddered as the image of a white horse with a black and neon pink details, green hair, and a psychotic grin came to mind. “That thing gives me nightmares.”

“I swear Nell bought it just for our reactions. She always gets this slightly evil expression when she mentions it.”

“Definitely wouldn’t put it past her.” Sighing, she grabbed a couple more ornaments and passed them up to Deeks. “We’ll just stick the crazy horse behind the vintage elves from my mom and if anyone else tries to give us decorations, they’re going straight into the goodwill pile.”

“Sounds perfectly reasonable,” Deeks said and though she couldn’t see his face from this angle, she was sure he was smiling. “Somehow I don’t think we have to worry about Callen buying us any kind of decoration.”

They were just about done hanging ornaments, when Kensi’s phone buzzed with an incoming call.

“Oh, it’s Sandra, our adoption coordinator,” she told Deeks, brows furrowing. As far as she knew, they’d completed all the paperwork, interviews, and other requirements to be considered for adoption, but maybe they’d missed something. She caught Deeks’ eye as she accepted the call, hoping that there weren’t any issues.

“Hi, this is Kensi. Yes, we did. Really? No, thank you for calling.” Deeks gave her a searching look as she listened to the women on the other end of the line.

“Kens,” he hissed, but she held up her hand, concentrating on everything Sandra said. “Right. Yes, we can come down tomorrow. Thank you so much.”

“Kensi, what the hell is going on?” Deeks demanded the second she hung up. A plain blue bulb hung loosely between his thumb and forefinger, apparently forgotten. “Did we accidentally check “divorced”or something on the paperwork?”

“Um, no.” Kensi shook her head and chuckled incredulously. “Sandra said they have a placement for us. She wants us to go to the adoption center to meet him tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“Holy crap,” Deeks breathed, sounding dazed. He looked just as shocked as she felt. He reached for her and Kensi fell against his chest, gripping his shoulders. “Is this really happening?”

“I think so. It seems impossible,” Kensi said, starting to feel a little giddy. “It’s been so long and Sandra had said we should expect to wait at least a couple months before we heard anything.”

“This is crazy.” Deeks shook his head again, eyes moving around the room, focusing on the mantle above their electric fireplace. “Crap, we’re going to need to buy another Christmas stocking,” he muttered giddily. “And presents.”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” Kensi gasped, kissing him with tears of joy leaking down her cheeks. “And I’ve never been happier.”

***

A/N: So, as you might have concluded, we have a crazy horse ornament that my mom got in Mexico when she was a girl. We put it on the tree every year. Mom insists.

[sp00kworm]

Who needs lights?

Pairing: Durzub (Goth Male Orc) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warning: Suggestive Themes

This wonderful piece is based off a very lovely OC by @of-devils-and-drawings. Durzub belongs to her and I adored him too much not to make this for him. I’m a sucker for anything scary and/or orc.... and/or metal....and/or goth. 

---

You’d always found a little bit of comfort being in the alternative scene, even when others stared and watched in the street as you went past, going about your business, bundled in black layers or flares and platforms. It was something unique and different and it was very much a part of your life. The bars were always better places too. You laughed at the bar at your friend as the bar tender tied his platinum, lilac streaked hair back and started to mix the cocktail for the jug. It was easier to order in large pitchers and watch the band playing from the platform the bar was on. You watched the alcohol mix as the Fae grinned at you, revealing incredibly dangerous, sharp teeth and placed two straws into the jug before sliding it closer to the two of you.

You paid for it before laughing and turning a straw to the Faun, “To our health! Well, and my new job!” You cheered.

“Oh, for sure, finally you’re not broke and can pay for drinks!” She jeered as she pursed her lips and leaned down to take a few long sips, “Jesus Christ, Flix!” She coughed, “You trying to get us drunk and make us easy, or something?”

Flix rolled his eyes as he flipped a cocktail shaker over and caught it, “You wish Pip. You two haven’t ever been my type.” He snorted as his lilac, gossamer wings fluttered behind his back in irritation. He laid his burning black eyes on a group in the corner, “Though, I like the look of those troublemakers.” A claw raised to point at the group of Orcs who were gathered in the corner.

 Pip’s brown ears flicked before her hooves clicked against the black floor, the sparkly tiles reflecting the strobes from the stage. She grinned and flicked at the ring in her nose, her shaggy black hair flopping back over her dark eyes, “Oh,” She purred, “I didn’t know you were into the rowdy muscle-head sort.”

Flix flipped the cocktail again before giving her the middle finger and moving to serve the cocktail to a woman who had just come out of the crowd watching the band.

“Who are they?” You asked after taking a long drink of the cocktail, “I haven’t seen them here before?” You looked over at the group again before realising how perfectly they fit in here in the bar. All were dressed in a variety of fashion, from heavy leather, to chains, to netting. Others donned fancier items with flowing sleeves and long, tailored skirts and trousers. The majority were green in skin tone, but you looked at a few lighter coloured, grey toned orcs with interest as they were from the mountainous regions of the old country.

Pip clicked her tongue, “Muscle heads and trouble, the lot of them.” She took another few drinks before hopping back onto her bar stool and adjusting her net top over her ripped shirt. Around her waist was a thick leather belt, the studs dripping with thin metal chains that hung around her furry hips, “They come to shows like this and usually start fights.” She commented off-handedly.

 With a frown, you looked from her, to the group again, “They just seem to be drinking and watching?” You commented.

Pip snorted a short bleat again, “Yeah, wait until this gig really kicks off, then you’ll see what I mean. Last time I was here with them one of them decided it would be a great idea to upturn tables, and by that, I mean, upturn my drinks over my new dress.” She hissed venomously, “They’re assholes, the lot of them.”

“They don’t look like it…” You uttered as one of the Orcs stood from the group and dragged his friend up with him to get drinks. The rest of them hollered their orders before some of the group split off to join the crowd watching the band.

“Oh great. Here they come!” Pip cheered before moving two seats down and dragging you along with her.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Pip.” Flix commented with a hiss and flutter of his wings, “They’re all lookers, I don’t see why you can’t look past that.” He shrugged his shoulders before smiling at the two male orcs at the bar, “What can I do for you two handsome fellas?” His eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings at them and you snickered at the scent of lilac flowers that drifted from him like a thick perfume.

 “Come on, Flix. Lay off it for one night will ya!” One of the orcs laughed before he elbowed his friend, “This guy’s new here. Don’t go scaring him off already. You lot need our custom.” The orc leaned back and scrubbed at his mohawk, adjusting his heavy cargo trousers. Fabric belts hung between the legs and down them and he wore a heavy half tartan kilt over the top. His face was littered with piercings and you could see why he looked like the sort to be causing problems.

“You know I love you all equally, Xurek.” Flix laughed, “But I was more excited for your lady friend over there. She’s new too huh?”

“Jesus, you never give up! Anyway,” Xurek took the other orc around the neck, “This is Durzub. He’s new in town. Just moved in from out from the sticks. He might look like a foul piece of work, but you’ve met Rakuh, so he’s not as scary.” Xurek laughed before he let the darker skinned orc go. The other male reached up to brush his black hair from his eyes. Most of his long black hair was braided in tight long threads, the braids sequenced with small beads along them with the rest straight and hanging over his shoulder beneath the wide brim of a black hat, emblazoned with a silver trim around the base. He turned, dressed in a black long shirt and coat, the end trailing behind him as he ducked out of Xurek’s grasp, brown eyes angry.

 Durzub snorted and tossed his head, the braids sliding back out of his way over his shoulder before he reached up to move his tangled chains from the ends of his hair, the necklaces hanging with silver teeth, “Will you stop dragging me around like a child, Xurek!” He snorted as he dragged his arm out of Xurek’s grasp and adjusted his hat again before sighing and taking it off, “Any way I could get you to store this behind the bar for me? Its new and these lot have a habit of throwing beer the later it gets.”

Flix fluttered his eyelashes again, “Sure thing, sweetheart.” He took the hat and turned around to hang it near the aprons, “Just grab me before closing and I’ll get it you.”

“Thank you.” Durzub rumbled before pulling his hair back again, tucking the straight length on his left side behind his ear, revealing rings of silver and studs of obsidian, which matched the rings, linked by a chain, on each of his short tusks.

“Don’t be nice to him, Durzub, he’ll eat you alive given the opportunity.” Xurek snickered behind his hand as he flapped his band shirt, trying to cool himself down, “His family ate children back in the day.”

“That was five hundred years ago!” Flix scoffed as he slammed two, pint glasses down on the bar, “So, was it two ales or two lagers?”

“We were thinking mead actually.” Xurek stuck his pierced tongue out before he played with the bar, “And not that piss water Weldrick buys for the goblins!” Flix ignored him and turned for the taps down the other end of the bar.

 Pip scoffed at the exchange, but you found your mouth opening at the sight of the long-haired orc and his scowl. He watched Flix’s wings before he turned away from Xurek’s chattering and pushed his hand over his mouth. You watched the exchange as Xurek stuck his tongue between the other’s fingers and couldn’t help but laugh loudly as Durzub cringed and recoiled.

“You’re fuckin’ disgusting.” Durzub rolled his eye and took a napkin from the holder to wipe the spit from his fingers and the skull rings which sat above his knuckles.

“Mmm, you taste like fresh meat.” Xurek hissed like a comically bad vampire, and you laughed again, but this time louder. It was loud enough that the two orcs looked down the bar to where you and Pip were sat with your cocktail jug.

“Well done! Now we have their attention.” Pip hissed in your ear before she kicked at your chair with one shoed hoof, clanking the metal with a vicious bang.

Xurek’s smile made you regret everything, as you watched his gaze shift from your face to the larger orc stood next to him, “Looks like we have an audience, Durzub.”

 The other male turned slightly on one heel, looking at you both with a raised eyebrow, looking over the two of you perched at the end of the bar, “Don’t mind this freak. He’s got a way of making everyone hate him.”

“Oh, that’s fuckin’ cold!” Xurek hissed at him, “After I introduce you to those bands too!”

Durzub rolled his eyes again as Xurek slinked around him to laze across the bar on one arm, his head propped up on his fist, “Bands which have given me nothing but persistent headaches.”

“Headaches but three magazine features!” Xurek wound his middle finger up before he smiled at the two of you again, “Ignore him. He was castrated at birth.” The statement earned him another gruff noise from Durzub.

“We don’t want your attention, Xurek.” Pip gave him a sardonic smirk, “Not unless you’re replacing those drinks from last time.” She leaned on her own open palm and bared her teeth at him, her hoof clicking against the bar stool.

“You’re a cold bitch, Pip. You know that was an accident.” Xurek whined, “Highlander honour.” He crossed his heart, “Anyway, why don’t I introduce you to my new friend here?” He wrapped his arm around Durzub, making the other spill mead down his fingers as he dragged him over to the two of you, “This is Durzub. He’s a music producer, and part time good looker.”

 “You’re a music producer?” You asked in awe before you turned and looked at the stage, “Are you here for these guys?” You pointed at the industrial band on stage as the lights went low and they started the intro for their next song. At the back here it wasn’t as loud, and you could readily hear the two orcs.

“Yeah. They’re a new signing.” Durzub rolled his shoulders in a shrug, “I never really sign their sort, but it seems like they have a decent following.”

“Come on, mate, we’re here to chill out, not to talk work.” Xurek groaned and laid against the sticky bar top before recoiling in disgust.

“I know, you great oaf.” Durzub placed Xurek’s drink next to him, “Are you both here to see the show?” He asked, his voice slipping from ‘totally pissed off’ into something that was ‘gruff but polite’. Either way, his soft country accent made you smile before you took a few mouthfuls of cocktail for courage.

Pip answered before you could swallow, “We come on a Friday to wind down. The gigs are always just a bonus.”

 She shot a look at you with her dark, goat eyes, warning you from speaking as she steered the conversation, “What about you guys? You here to bother people on their nights off?”

“Well, we know where we ain’t wanted.” Xurek shrugged his shoulders at Pip’s rudeness, “Sorry to harass you, but you don’t have to be a salty asshole about spilt drinks, you know.” He watched Pip’s temper flare and you ducked back as she slammed her hand against the bar top.

“You listen here you little asshole!”

“Little?” Xurek scoffed, “I tower over you, babe.”

Pip gave a bleat of anger before she swept her leg around you and cracked Xurek in the shin, “It was my new dress you ass for brains!” She hissed at him before she stood up to walk around you and face the orc head on.

“What do you want me to say, huh?!” Xurek goaded, “Oh I’m so sorry that my accident ruined something I couldn’t stop. Get over yourself thinking I did it on purpose!” He fumed with anger.

You leaned back before hopping out of your chair, taking the jug of cocktail in one hand and a tall glass in the other before you turned to Durzub, “Hey come on. They’re going to be screeching for a while. Want to go and sit on the balcony and watch?”

 Durzub seemed a little taken back by the offer, “Oh, sure.” He uttered as he pulled Xurek’s drink away from him and then took his own in hand and following you towards the stairs, leading to the viewing area above the pit. You found two stools and a table and happily placed your drinks on it before leaning on the railing to look down at the band as they headbanged together on stage.

Durzub sat awkwardly for a moment before he coughed behind his head, “So, what is it that you do?” He asked as he leaned over the table, eyeing the mixture of liquor and fruit juice in your jug.

You turned from the show and smiled, “Oh nothing as interesting as music production. I just got hired at a new modelling agency.”

“Do you model then?” He asked with wide eyes, “Because you’re certainly…”

“Oh, God no. Nothing like that. I work with brands and secure deals and shoots. I work with Skull Crusher and Tombstone mostly.” You smiled and sipped cocktail through your straw.

Durzub tucked his hair back again with a sweep of his hand, “That explains the look then.” He smiled softly, “Do you get some sweet discounts?” He asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. It’s never been cheaper to be a goth!” You cheered as you looked down at the rowdy beginnings of a mosh pit, then back to the bar.

 You gave a great laugh, “Well, looks like their argument is sorted.” You pointed at Xurek with his bruised cheek. He slammed back his drink before storming away into the pit, rushing through a mosh pit before his eyes caught sight of a human among the others. You grinned at his expression. Dumb struck.

“Jesus. I hope they’re ready to be pestered.” Durzub chugged a few mouthfuls of mead before he scoffed, “Whenever he gets that look, he ends up heartbroken a week later.”

“Well, it might be different this time, you know?” You smiled back at Durzub, “Maybe this is the one!” You cooed.

“You’ve got fairy tales in your head and cotton candy to go with it. He’s going to have a one-night stand then not shut up about her for the next three weeks.” Durzub held up three fingers as he drank some more, “Or he’ll relay every little detail to us on our next outing. He has zero filter.”  

“I can tell that much.” You laughed as you shuffled back in your seat, “What about you then, have you met your one?”

“My one?” Durzub scoffed, “Hardly. How old do you think I am?” He leaned on his fist and pointed back at himself, giving you a curious look.

 You felt like this was a trap, “Are you doing this so you can get mad when I guess wrong?” You asked as you pushed the ice around in the glass.

“Hardly. I’m not sensitive.” He grumbled as his painted fingers tapped against the side of the pint glass.

“Hmm, if you say so.” You leaned over the table to squint at his face. You’d worked with a few orcs before, but most were young models, sharp featured and tall, broad in the shoulders. Durzub was the same, though his face had wrinkles in places which would suggest he was far over twenty years old, “Thirty-six.” You decided with a smile.

Durzub let out a low laugh, “Not far off actually. I’m thirty-eight.” He pointed to the stage, “And I used to do that. Played in a band until about five years ago. Started as a producer then. Never looked back.”

“Oh wow. Who did you used to play with?” You asked in awe.

“A gothic rock sort of deal.” He replied before he looked into your pleading eyes, and relented, “Zi Gijak.”

“No way.” You rushed to stand from your seat as you recognised the Orcish name, “Black Blood!?”

 Durzub ducked his head, reaching for where his hat had sat before he realised, he wasn’t wearing it, “Keep your voice down, please.” He begged quietly, “I don’t need people in this place to recognise me.”

“How could they recognise you now? You look nothing like you did back in the day.” You stated before realising what you said sounded rude, “Not that you look bad now it’s just…”

He laughed at your awkwardness, “I know. I ditched the netting and bones a while ago.”

“You didn’t look half bad in it though, even five years ago.” You winked at him with a sudden rush of confidence, “Though I think this outfit suits you just as much.”

Suddenly, it was as though the intimidating exterior melted, and you watched Durzub’s face go flushed with embarrassment, “Thanks. It has been a change.”

Without making him any more embarrassed you changed the subject a little, “So what bands do you produce for now?” You asked.

“Quite a few. I used to work with SIREN before they got huge, but that sort of metal was never something I could do rather well, I thought.” He shrugged, “They’re with a more focused label now.”

“No way…This keeps getting better and better!” You uttered again.

 “Better and better for you. They were a headache and a half for me!” Durzub chuntered into his drink before he swallowed the last bits of it, “I’m glad they’ve moved up. They were good for business.” He smirked over the edge of the pint glass.

“Only thinking of the money.” You tutted playfully, “That’s no way to treat your bands.” You joked.

“Oh no, but that makes me feel better knowing my weekly migraines are worth the agony.” Durzub chuckled as he watched the band on stage, “These guys ain’t half bad for a show though. I think I picked the best from the bucket.”

“They have an interesting ensemble.” You smirked at the leather clad demoness as she slinked along the stage before she growled from her stomach, a crop landing against the hand of a handsy looking fan in the front.

“Interesting but it’s the sort of thing that gets you recognised.” Durzub noted as he watched, “This place is a refuge for all kinds of people. I’m glad Cal has got this place running with Weldrick.”

 “Who’s Cal? I’ve met Weldrick. Giant bright white minotaur, right? Build like a brick shit house with all the piercings?” You recalled.

Durzub nodded, “That’s him. He’s about eight foot tall too. Scariest mother fucker I ever did meet.” He shifted in his seat, “Cal is the co-owner, but he’s not around that often. He’s a vampire, but he’s not people fond.” The orc shrugged before offering you half a smile, “We all used to work together, believe it or not.”

“Wait…” Your mouth dropped open, “I’m actually stupid.”

“Cal was the singer of Black Blood. Weldrick ran our security back in the day.” He laughed at your open mouth before he leaned over to close your mouth with two large fingers. He brushed his fingers over your chin before leaning back and pointing to your drink, “Do you want anything else?”

“I’m okay thanks. I’ll keep your seat warm.” You joked as he stood up with a nod and grumbled about having something better than ‘shitty mead’.

 “I’ve never seen Durzub ever sit and talk with someone in a bar.” A deep, gravelly voice rang out from behind you. You turned around in your chair to see a tall, human looking male watching you, his sunglasses perched on the end of his nose as he regarded you with a mild amount of curiosity from over the lenses. He reached out a hand awkwardly, “Cal.”

“As in…” You took his hand, and flinched at the stone coldness of his grip, “Co-owner of the bar, Cal?”

“The very same.” He shook your hand lightly before his hand disappeared quickly back into his pocket, “I just came to say hello. I was curious. He hates attention in these kinds of places…”

“Just like you then, apparently.” You observed as you turned on your seat to face him. He was a giant man, but stony cold, and overly pale, looking almost grey around his reflective, steel-coloured eyes. They shone red as he turned, the bouncing curls of black hair spilling over his shoulders before he reached for a cigarette packet and cursed, seeing it was empty with only his lighter inside.

 “Cal?” Durzub returned with a large looking ale in his hand, “Weird time to show yourself. Unless you were planning to steal this one for a snack, hmm? As usual.” He scoffed.

“You know I’ve been off the blood for years…” Cal whispered as he rummaged in his other back pocket, before finding a small, slim packet of chewing gum, “I don’t…”

“Yeah. Save it. That’s what you said last time, Clarence.” Durzub huffed into his drink.

Cal’s back went ridged before he stooped over and unfolded the wrapper of his gum, “You don’t get to call me that.” He whispered again, his gravelly tone rumbling in the back of his throat before he slunk away, back into the shadows, and disappeared in a shadowy wave of his black hair.

“Sorry you had to see that.” Durzub rumbled from across the table, “Its…complicated.”

You span back around and smiled, “Don’t worry about it. I think Pip had more of a fight with Xurek.” You snickered as you turned to spy her sat at the bar, batting her eyelashes at Flix as he served, “Though I think she’s okay now. She’s turned her eyes on a certain someone.”

Durzub looked down at the bar and laughed as well, “Well I guess you know her type now.” He joked as he sipped at his ale.

“Yep. Scary pretty boys, who aren’t part of your friends.” You snickered as you sipped at the last of your cocktail and refreshed the glass.

 The band on the stage purred their final song as you took another drink, and you looked at your phone with wide eyes at the time.

“I have to get up tomorrow for errands.” You lamented, looking at the clock. It was almost midnight, and you knew Pip would be here for hours if you left her to her own devices.

“So, this is where the night ends.” Durzub laughed before he finished the last of his own drink, “Here.” He tugged out his phone, “Let me give you my number?”

You nodded and took your phone out to exchange numbers before checking it was working and showing him the message came through okay.

“Thank you for tonight.” You smiled at him, “We should do this again.” You leaned over and carefully placed a kiss on his flushed cheek, “For an grumpy music producer, you’re funny to be around.” You took your bag and looked at Xurek, who was busy pressing a human against the far wall, “And look after Xurek, huh? Looks like he might just get himself into trouble again.” You descended the stairs just as the orcs started cheering for the male and shook your head.

 After speaking to Pip, and confirming she had a taxi to get home, you exited the bar and shivered in the cold, before you felt a warm presence behind you, and a hand catch your own.

“Hey!” Durzub grunted as he caught your hand, “Let me walk you home?” He asked, “No way in hell I’m staying to watch those lot gawk at Xurek strip a human down.” He sneered. His sneer softened as you interlinked your fingers together and squeezed his hand before looping an arm through his own, leaning into his body heat.

“Sure. You can walk me home.” You leaned into his arm again and smiled, “I live three blocks away, so it’s a bit of a short walk.”

“Better to spend time with you.” Durzub whispered before he looked at the night sky, “I’m still sorry about what happened with Cal…”

“Honestly, it never happened, okay?” You patted the orc’s large arm, “We all have our differences and reasons.”

“Still. I was rude.” He huffed before he reached for his hat and tugged at the brim, “I’m glad I got to meet you at least tonight.” You tried to ignore the way he tugged at his bottom lip before he adjusted the decorative chain over his lip and smiled, still a little awkward.

“Me too.” You purred back at him.

 The messages started off polite between the two of you, but it was quickly a regular thing for you both to message back within a minute or two depending on if Durzub was working in the studio or you were in meetings. You were both enamoured. It didn’t take long for you both to meet again, eating together in a restaurant which was a little bit too expensive for you. It was high end, and suited Durzub as he sat there eating, looking intimidating as he ate couscous and chopped vegetables before smiling and blushing with embarrassment as you complimented him and his outfit. For such a giant orc, with a bigger scowl, he was softened whenever you said something nice. Several nights together on dates lead to this one, finally going to his studio to see what he did, and to listen to something he had been working on. Excitement churned in your gut as you looked at the choker around your neck and touched the spikes around its surface before flicking the dog tag and grinning at yourself before you rushed for the door to meet Durzub.

 “Hey!” You shouted at the orc. He was stood out on the pavement, dressed in an old print of a Black Blood shirt with a screaming orc and vampire on the front, blood dripping from both of their mouths. He was dressed in dark jeans, littered with pocket chains and a heavy leather duster to combat the cool breeze. He looked up from beneath his broad rim hat. Instantly, Durzub’s perpetual scowl turned into a small smile, and you took hold of his hand before leaning up to kiss his cheek before placing a soft kiss against his bottom lip. He was always a little slow to catch up, but he returned the kiss with a gentle rub of his tusks to your chin.

“Hey stranger.” He rumbled before he gestured to the building, “My studio is on the sixth floor.”

“This doesn’t look much like a record label building to me.” You hummed as Durzub led you into the reception. A naga waved him on up with you, looking back at her work with a hiss and a grumpy frown.

“Not yet it doesn’t. Wait until we get into the actual building. This is just the polite front for greeting people.” The elevator dinged as he pressed the button and the two of you climbed inside. He pushed the button for the sixth floor and you jittered with anxiety as it moved upwards slowly.

“I’m excited and nervous.” You whispered as the doors opened on floor two and let some more people in.

“Don’t be, baby. You’ll be fine.” Durzub soothed as you continued up.

 The sixth floor was littered with records on the walls, gold, red, black and mixed dyes. You looked along the walls before Durzub tugged you down the carpeted hall. You followed a step or so behind, trying to read the framed records as you toddled behind him, little out of your depth. Durzub’s coat trailed behind him and you moved to not step on it as he stopped at his door. He unlocked it with a click of an electronic card and you watched the black door swing open to reveal the sound room.

“Wow.” You stepped inside in front of him and looked at the expensive sound equipment, keeping your hands to yourself to avoid being told off or ruining anything, “This is some expensive gear.” You grinned at him, “And pretty.” You peered past the soundproof glass to see the guitars and drum kit in the recording box and smiled at the pointed-v design one, knowing it was from when he played with Black Blood.

“I knew you’d spot that one.” Durzub said mildly before he threw his coat over a speaker and collapsed into his large office chair, the leather making him shiver with the cold against his arms, “This is where I spend most of my life, making kids realise that riffs are stupid in the wrong places.” He scoffed before tugging you a chair from the other soundboard and patting it, “Come sit. I have some things to show you.”

 Carefully, you placed your coat on top of Durzub’s before joining him by the large computers, eyeing the two screens as he logged in, squinting at the screen.

“Fuck. Glasses.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled free a set of circle frame glasses, putting them on before cringing and looking back at you, “Not as young as I used to be…”

“You look cute in them.” You gushed as you scooted the roller chair forwards and made sure to sit as close to him as possible, “Being able to see is important, even if you don’t look as scary with glasses on.” You teased.

“Yeah…” He let the words drop off as he found what he was looking for and pulled free two sets of expensive headphones. Durzub leaned over and gently tucked them over your ears, holding them and holding up an ‘okay’ sign before he donned his own and pressed play. He leaned back in his chair and you sat impatiently before the noise of a gentle synth graced your ears, opening with a gentle melody before a guitar followed the same rhythm before chugging to life with slow riffs. It was gentle somehow still as the guitar started on a slowly moving rhythm along into the beginnings of a verse, sung by a vocalist you recognised as Durzub. The lyrics lilted about roses on a hill, growing in a graveyard around a forgotten tombstone before you grinned at the references to old vampire movies that the two of you enjoyed. The chorus was met with a litany of soft guitar and synth before a drum solo full of soft cymbal carried on. It was something made for the two of you, and you wondered just how long Durzub had spent making this song. Looking at the poorly hidden bags under his eyes, you figured it had been most nights after work.

 In the closing synth of the son, you laid your head against Durzub’s arm, against the tattoo of the roses around the gravestone. You pressed your lips to his skin gently before smiling and tugging the headphones down to around your neck, smiling up at the orc. Durzub copied the motion with another small smile, reaching to stroke at the top of your head

“That was beautiful. It’s hard to believe you made that just for me.” You whispered against his warm skin as the orc flushed with embarrassment, “Did you mean the part about making love on graves?” You teased gently before you slipped from your own chair, and into his lap, your fingers sliding up over the tattoos on his arms, tracing the thorns of the roses down before you traced the edge of the stem curling over his collar bone.

“Maybe not. Stone gives you a bad back.” He rumbled as his pupils went wide, watching your fingers as they slipped under the collar of his t-shirt, “But I would worship you just the same.” His hands moved from the computer to your hips, his fingers pressing into the meat of your backside before he leaned forwards to kiss you. You gladly accepted the advance, kissing the orc back, your tongue licking at his lips before you traced the rings around his tusks and wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

 A soft moan escaped Durzub’s mouth as you pulled away. His lips were puffy and you leaned forwards to bite his lip, enjoying the second croak that escaped him as you leaned back on his thighs.

“What about this desk?” You asked under your breath.

Durzub grumbled, “There’s a lot of…” Your hand meeting his crotch shorted his brain for a moment, “I can make room.” He grumbled before he pushed the keyboard and monitor aside, leaving the desk free for you both. You laid back over the wood and grinned as you tugged on one of his tusks, forcing his face down so you could lay another kiss on his lips. Durzub moaned again as you reached up into his dark hair, tugging the braids at his scalp.

“Maybe you should make good on your song lyrics.” You purred as you kissed his cheeks and then bit at his neck before sucking a mark under his ear.

“Fuck.” Durzub hissed before he leaned over you, his fingers tugging at your clothes before he admired the collar around your neck and gave it a tug, “I hope you didn’t have any other plans.”

 Neither of you saw the audio recording button flashing red.

 ‘Everything was recorded. I’m keeping it. See you at the bar. x’

[billiejean485]

Well peeps - I think I finally reached my turning point regarding Miraculous Ladybug. I've made a decision to leave for the time being.

I have no reasons left to focus on it the way I did up until Ephemeral, and I am just making myself hang onto the old ones that made me so dedicated to the show in the first place.

I probably won't turn my back to it 100% until the Sentimonster Adrien thing is completely resolved, meaning that I will watch the new eps and probably write posts about them too. If a miracle happens and I end up being able to accept or even like what the canon has in store for us, then I'll come back and continue where I left off.

And what does that 'continue' mean: means I'll pick up the fanfic I've been writing since June and go back to being an active fan.

That fanfic meant a hell lot to me: it was my comfort, my emotional relief and something I could spend almost all of my time on, now that I got retired (yup, you read that right - I got retired at the beginning of my 30s, because of my health issues). I knew of course that it was plain fan work, but as someone who wanted to be a part of other people's works and even a writer one day, it was at least a very good practice. I'm not taking this hit personally, because it's always a shot in the dark with fan fiction - but boy, have I never thought having to give up on one could hurt this bad.

Speaking of which, if I really have to drop it and forget about it, I hope I'll find a right moment in the future where I'll be able to share my ideas, concepts and what I already wrote and made regarding it.

Some may wonder why I just can't keep working on it regardless of the canon. I just can't. For the life of me, I can't go against it, and I rarely could - canon material was always something I put above everything else, what I'd try to respect and relive in my fan works, as a tribute - and also, as a way of bringing myself and my readers back into the original world. So now that I can't find anything to be dedicated to... it lost it's purpose.

I still hate that they've (possibly) made Adrien be a Sentimonster. Part of the reason why so many of us in the fandom liked him as a chara since the first season is because we believed we got a perfect little 'Disney Prince' we rarely or never get in other media; having that turn into a lie is well... disheartening.

Of course, it's always a push to make a character perfect, and maybe we should've seen that as a warning sign. But honestly - it depends from the creator. We could argue that characters like Disney Princesses got away with being perfect for the longest time, though I personally don't think I've ever seen a perfect character (that isn't a Mary Sue/Gary Stue). If you want relatability, you gotta add some flaws. And Adrien as a human wasn't really all that perfect himself - especially if you view him from the Chat Noir side of his persona. He was perfect in that attempt to be a perfect human - but all of that has been tossed out the window now for good.

Heck, I'm not even an Adrien Agreste stan - I liked his alter ego more and mostly for artistic purposes. But knowing that that Chaton has never been a human to begin with and that can disappear with a snap of a finger or a destruction of the object with an Amok is so disappointing. Like I said before - if I knew he was just a magical being, I wouldn't have gotten invested. It's just not my cup of tea.

And don't call me out on being a Senti-hater. I'm not. I was rooting for Sentibug and all the others staying alive as much as the next person; it's just that I was living in this POV on Adrien that got completely crushed.

I sound just like Marinette did in Ephemeral. Well, if that is to be taken as a foreshadowing for all of us getting to accept him in this new light... I just hope we'll all manage to do so.

As for my fanfic... Sadly, I can't bring up anything without giving spoilers - and, like I said, I'm hanging by that last thread of hope that the climax of the canon won't disappoint me and that I'll work my way around it somehow. All I can say is I'm pretty much in the same pickle there as in real life.

I know most of you are probably wondering why I'm making such a big fuss over it, and also why I keep bothering everyone without giving anything to actually look at... As I've stated, I just can't. And it's killing me, because if you knew the deatails, you'd totally get why I was this taken aback by the SentiAdrien reveal/teaser.

So... see ya in the following days. At least I can take a mental break now from the constant spoilers and all the jazz (though I Followed too many MLB dedicated blogs to not get them on my timelines, so maybe I'll end up taking small breaks from Social Media as well). I'll look for something else I might find interesting. I won't go back to Transformers just yet, as I feel I still need a break from that too.

... Maybe this whole post ends up being a 'false alarm' and something makes me stay - though I doubt it. It just feels like the right choice to avoid MLB for now.

Good luck with your personal emotional roller-coaster on the ride this show is providing! Hope that most of us will end up satisfied with what the creators have in store.

... I regret coming back to the fandom, at least at this point. I came for the fluff - not the angst and the depression Ephemeral gave me. 😞