#they asked me a bunch of questions about myself and later i ended up giving them a bunch of yt video essay recs (shocking)

[lesbeet]

officially done w my second year of teaching!! we only had 3 class periods today bc of finals and one of them was my prep period, and i gave my sophomores an essay instead of a final but that was due last week, meaning we had nothing to do today. so i figured out how to hook up my switch to the smartboard and we played mario kart and just hung out lmao.

i had several kids write me really sweet notes and two also told me (independent of one another) that they learned more from me this year than any other english class they've taken, which was really really nice to hear.

i'm so happy to be done but i'm also really grateful that i'm going back there next year, meaning i don't need to worry about interviewing or even just like. starting at yet another new school where i don't know anything or anyone. i got to leave stuff in my classroom knowing i'd be back, one class i'll be teaching next year is the same as one from this year so i won't have to start EVERYTHING from scratch for once, so it's just kind of like a preemptive relief. also my sister and i leave for greece and italy in a couple weeks so i'm obviously excited for that, and in the meantime i get to spend some time w my cat before i abandon him for 2 weeks lmao

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

This Is Where You Stand With Me (part 3)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: none

Part 2 here

Y/N's pov

We flew to Spain ten days before the Grand Prix. Carlos wanted to introduce Sophie to his family, and since his family is in Madrid, the two of them decided to go there for two days.

It's Friday night in Barcelona and Lando asked me if I wanted to go out with him and the boys. Of course I agreed because I don't plan on being in the hotel room until Sophie and Carlos come back. Since Lando is the only person with whom I am closest, I asked him to wait for me so that we go to the club together. And him being the sweetheart that he is he agreed to wait for me.

A few minutes after I replied to his text, here he is knocking on the door of my hotel room.

"Give me a second!" I yell as I quickly throw on an oversized t shirt and some shorts on myself.

"Hello!" I smile from ear to ear and tilt my head to the side as I open the door for him.

"Y/n!" He shouts. "Your hair is wet and still in a towel! You haven't even started getting ready yet!!" He scolds me as he enters my room.

"Well I told you I just got out of the shower! But don't worry I usually don't take long to get ready." I assure him.

"Yeah, yeah sure. We'll see." He rolls his eyes as he throws himself on my bed.

"If your shoes touch my sheets, you're going to have a problem with me." I warn him and he laughs at my threats, but listens to me and takes off his shoes.

"By the way you look very handsome." I compliment him. He was wearing a short-sleeved white linen shirt and loose, but not too loose, light blue washed jeans. And of course two necklaces around his neck that fit him so well.

"Thank you, now please start getting ready so we can see what you'll look like."

"So? How do I look?" I ask him 45 minutes later as I pose in front of him.

"I-I.." He looks stunned, measuring me from head to toe with his mouth open. He's never seen me dressed up like this before and I must say I'm flattered by his reaction.

"I hope that's a good sign?"

"I'm sorry." He laughs nervously. "You left me speechless, you look beautiful."

"Thank you Lando." I blush at his compliment.

"Shall we go?" He asks extending his arm for me.

"Be sure I'll hold your hand until we get there because I don't wear heels very often."

"As long as you'd like."

It was around 10.30 p.m. when Lando and I arrived in front of the club. We didn't get out of the car right away because there was a bunch of paparazzi in front of the club and I was slowly starting to get anxious. I didn't feel comfortable being photographed and ending up all over the internet the next day just because I came with Lando. I didn't feel very safe either, and I surely didn't want them to spread any rumors about Lando and me.

"Are you okay?" Lando asks me because he noticed that I was squirming in the seat and breathing rapidly.

"Yeah, I'm just, I'm a little nervous. There's a lot of them." I say biting on my lower lip and he puts his hand over mine.

"Just hold onto me and we'll be inside in a few seconds okay?" He says and I nod.

"Okay."

The driver opened the door for us and Lando got out of the car first. As soon as he stepped out of the car people started shouting his name and the camera flashes went off like crazy. For a moment I thought about not getting out of the car at all but asking the driver to take me back to the hotel, but luckily the desire to have a good time was stronger than that.

"You okay?" Lando was so sweet checking up on me.

"Yeah, let's go."

I climb out of the car and keep my gaze down holding Lando's hand tightly with one hand and trying to cover my face with the other. It definitely looked like we were a couple and that's why the paparazzi immediately began to bombard him with questions.

"Lando who is this? Is this your new girlfirend?"

"What's her name?"

"Look over here! You two look great together!"

At that moment I didn't care about the questions or the comments, I only cared about whether I would trip and fall in my heels in front of all those cameras. About thirty seconds later, which by the way felt like 30 minutes, we finally got inside the club.

"I must say you've got a pretty tight grip." Lando says and I can't help but laugh at his comment.

"I'm sorry." I try to pull out my hand from his, but he doesn't let go.

"I don't mind though."

And so we continued to make our way through the crowd of people until we reached the VIP section with a booth where Pierre, Kika, Max and Charles were. As Lando and I got closer I felt that all eyes were on us. Before my and Charles' eyes briefly met, I caught him scanning Lando and me and looking at our hands. I wasn't surprised when I saw that Ava wasn't with them.

"Hello, guys." Lando greets them and I give Kika a hug.

"Hi!" I wave my hand and everybody but Charles, of course, greets me back.

The night went great, we danced, we sang, we drank, some of us maybe a little too much, but that's okay.

At one point we all left the booth and went down into the crowd to dance. That was by far my favorite part of the night. I was so relaxed and careless I enjoyed every second of it.

Lando was dancing with me, he'd spin me around every now and then while we were singing to spanish songs from the top of our lungs even though we didn't understand a single word. If only Sophie and Carlos were here, I'm sure it would have been even better.

"Are you having a good time?" Lando slurs. Out of all of us he drank the most and it was very obvious that he was wasted.

"You're so drunk." I laugh. I was a bit tipsy, but I knew when to stop drinking because I didn't want to get drunk. He ignored my observation that he was drunk and continued to bring drinks.

"Lando, you should really stop. You've had enough."

"Nooo." Whining like a baby, he pulls me into a hug and rests his head in the crook of my neck leaning his weight on me. You could see it was time to go to the hotel because his eyes were closing from tiredness. He could barely stand on his feet.

"Lando, your're heavy, we're both gonna fall down. Stand up straight please!" I say struggling to somehow hold him so he doesn't fall and brings me down with him.

"You're gonna knock her down you idiot." Luckily, Charles noticed the situation and pulled Lando off of me. "C'mon it's time to leave." He says to Lando who protested a little, but listened to Charles anyway.

"I'll help you with him." I say and we start making our way to the exit.

A car was already waiting for us in front of the club, so all three of us sat in the back seats, Lando between Charles and me. As soon as he sat down, he fell asleep. My feet were killing me and I couldn't wait to go to sleep, and Charles seemed tired as well. I'd say he was a little tipsy too, but nowhere near as Lando. He definitely outdid us all tonight.

Charles and i haven't spoken a word tonight and I didn't want to be the one to start any conversation in the car so the ride was quiet, but luckily short. When we got to the hotel, first Charles got out of the car, then I.

"Lando, wake up." I say gently shaking him by his shoulder. He just mumbled something refusing to get out.

"I would prefer leaving him in the car to sleep since he had to drink this much." Charles says getting annoyed at him. "Lando, wake the fuck up or I'm gonna leave you here."

When we somehow managed to get him out of the car, I held him by one side and Charles by the other and so we started to walk to the elevator. We entered the elevator and I pressed the fifth floor on which Lando's room was and mine was on the floor below.

"Does he normally drink like this when you guys go out?" I ask.

"Not really, this is the first time I've seen him like this in a long time." Charles replies.

"Really?"

"Yeah, maybe you are a bad influence on him." Charles says, but I can't tell if he was joking or what he already meant by what he said.

"Yeah, sure." I roll my eyes at him.

When we reached Lando's room, we barely managed to find the card in his pants that unlocks the room. I was a little surprised, but relieved that he didn't lose it. We get inside the room and lay him down on the bed.

"Fuck, I'm sweating." Charles says while stretching his back.

"Should we just leave him like this?" I ask referring to his clothes and shoes.

"Well, I don't know. Aren't you gonna take care of him tonight? I bet you were gonna spend the night in his room anyway." As the words leave his mouth, I feel as if someone has knocked the breath out of my lungs. I was shocked at what he said.

"Excuse me?" I was immediately overcome with anger and the alcohol coursing through my veins definitely contributed to that feeling. "How dare you say such a thing to me? Who gives you the right to insult me like that? You don't know shit about me!" At this point I was almost yelling and I didn't care about Lando sleeping because he was passed out anyway he couldn't hear a thing.

"Well you two came holding hands, he was all over you the whole night hugging you and dancing with you. What else can a person think?"

"Lando is nothing but a good friend to me and someone who I trust and feel safe next to when I'm here alone without Sophie and Carlos! And I don't look at him as anything other than a friend!" I continue to justify myself to Charles for some unknown reason.

"And you don't trust me enough to ask me if you need anything while they're gone?" He asks and I just can't believe what's coming out of his mouth. For a moment I wonder if I'm crazy or if he is.

"Are you seriously asking me this right now? How do you think I trust you or even feel comfortable in your company when you constantly treat me like this? Ever since we met, I've been nothing but polite and nice to you and you just keep putting me down for literally no reason! One minute you are nice, attentive and caring and funny and then the next you have some unnecessary rude comment to say to me, or you don't even deign to greet me, or even better you don't even acknowledge my existence! You're so pathetic Charles! I had such a good night, but you managed to ruin it, congratulations!" I almost run out of breath after my angry rant and I can already feel tears welling up in my eyes, but he got what he deserved.

"Why do you seem to remember so good all those situations? Why do they bother you so much if you don't care, huh?" He asks taking a step closer to me. I am irritated by his calmness while everything inside me is burning with anger.

"I don't know maybe because I'm a good fucking person who doesn't treat other people the way you do so I don't except to be treated that way from you either if I've been nothing but kind to you! And you know what else? I keep thinking how badly your girlfriend treats you because she isn't there to support you when you need her. I felt so bad for you for the Monaco Grand Prix, I even wished to comfort you when she wasn't there to. But the further I go, the more I think that maybe you are the problem, not her." I turn on my heel and head for the door, a tear escaping my eye in the process. I was fighting them back really hard and I'm furious at myself for letting him make me feel this way.

I leave the room, but he follows me outside and stops me by pulling me by my hand.

"Wait." He says.

"No, don't touch me!" I say yanking it away from his grip.

"Then why weren't you there for me instead of her if you wished to?"

"Because of all the things I just said. And why don't you start giving some answers instead of just asking questions?" With that I leave him standing in the corridor of the hotel as I hurry to the elevator and into my room.

part 4 here

[mrs-kodzuken]

Teen Pregnancy ♡

Pairing: Kōtarō Bokuto x fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

Genre: angst to fluff

CW: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, teen pregnancy (please don’t get pregnant at a young age if you can try!), angst to fluff, reader thinks it’s sickness, injured!bokuto, obviously implied sex since reader is pregnant

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

I wiped my mouth with the back of my shaky hand as I just got finished puking into the toilet. This happened for the third time this week, but I hadn't gone to the doctor because of Bokuto.

He had, unfortunately, sprained his ankle while trying out a new skill during volleyball practice. The doctor said that he wasn't supposed to play for a week and to lay off it for it to heal.

As usual, that really made Kōtarō go into emo mode. Akaashi had managed to pull him out, but his bad mood hadn't gone away all week.

Me being his girlfriend, I took up the duty to help him around, even if I wasn't feeling well myself; I care about his well-being more than mine anyway.

After I brushed my teeth, I noticed a pale-ish look to my skin tone. Maybe I should make an appointment with the doctor's, I thought after grabbing my school bag.

Dark gray clouds swirled in the sky as the cold air nipped at my skin, releasing a shiver from my body.

It was probably going to rain, or worse, snow.

Being in the month of December, that was quite likely to happen. I arrived at the front gates of school, and

Akaashi had taken it upon himself to help get Kō here in the mornings.

I quickly hurried to his classroom, which was class one. I saw him pouting in his chair with his crutch leaning on the side of his desk and his hair slightly down. I sighed and moved near him.

"Good morning baby, how're you feeling?" I asked, trying to shift my problems out of my head and focusing on his.

"I want to play volleyball." His pout is not going away. Kōtarō always had an endless hunger for the victory of volleyball. I mean, that is why he is one of the top five best athletes in Japan.

And a small sprang could really do some damage to the poor boy.

"I know you do, but just bear with us for the next couple of days, and then you'll be back to smashing those balls on the court." I tried cheering him up a bit before I had to leave.

I heard the warning bell signaling that class would be starting soon, so I leaned down to give Kō a peck on the forehead before I left.

"I'll see you later, Kōtarō."

But when I started walking, I felt my bladder almost exploded. I had used the bathroom when I first got up this morning before my puking session, so I wasn't sure how I already needed to pee.

I hurried to the nearest ladies bathroom and relieved myself. While I was washing my hands, the bell rang for class to start.

What made it even worse was that my class room was upstairs since I was in class 5. My shoulders slumped as I walked even slower up the stairs.

It was only morning, but traveling up a staircase had worn me out.

I entered my class with the rest of my classmates staring at me, and my best friend's eyebrow quirked up as if to question why I'm late.

"You finally come to class, miss." My teacher said irritatingly as I took my seat, which was in back, after I mumbled a small apology.

Soon, the teacher droned on about something that I wasn't too bothered by. I sat my head down on the desk and decided to take a little nap to pass the time.

I felt someone shake me a little bit as I pushed their hand away.

"Do you want to eat lunch or not?" was the voice belonging to my best friend as she awaited my answer, which was a bunch of words mumbled together.

"By the way, why were you late this morning? You're never late, like, ever." She questioned me as she sat in front of me with her bento box, deciding she was going to eat here with me in the class.

"I had used the bathroom after meeting with Kō and ended up late. I just don't feel good." I said, looking up at her, then at her food.

Suddenly, a thought struck at me, "And I forgot my lunch." I groaned and sat my head back down.

"I'm so sorry (Y/n). I really don't want to make everything worse, but our teacher assigned us a project that's worth ten percent of our grade, and it's due Friday."

Today was Wednesday, and I felt like crying at the thought of doing a school project. "Great, just great. great, great, great." I hit my head on my hands with every word I spoke.

"You don't sound great."

"I'm not great, (B/f/n)." I put my head in my hands and sucked it up, trying to focus on anything else besides the hunger in my stomach and the nausea that came with it.

"I'll be fine; lunch is almost over anyway. Do me a favor and wake me when the bell rings for dismissal." She nodded and packed her bento box away as people started to fill the classroom.

I also forgot my hoodie, so I laid there on my cold desk, shivering just a bit.

As promised, (B/f/n) woke me when class was finished. I headed outside towards the gym, knowing Kō would want to stay and watch his teammates play, even if he couldn't.

The sky had actually become really dark as little flurries of snow fell down. This was bad weather, especially with Bokuto being in a crutch.

I sluggishly walked into the gym, knowing that it would take a lot of convincing for me to get home.

As usual, he was sitting on the bench watching his teammates play with a grumpy facial expression.

I sighed and sat down beside him, wanting nothing more than to be embraced by his arms.

I laid my head on his shoulder and carefully watched out the window as the snow continued to fall.

Only two hours had passed, and it was pitch black outside, not to mention it was freezing too.

I had been trying to convince Bokuto to go home due to his injured leg. I knew I had been pestering him, but in the end he would give in and let me help him walk home.

What I didn't expect was for my plan to backfire on me.

"Goddamn it, do you have to be so fucking annoying all the time?" He snapped his head towards me as I froze; I could tell everyone else in the gym did too.

My heart was stuck in my throat as I gave him a weak apology; I didn't bother grabbing my bag. Held my head down low as I hurried out of the gym as the temperature dropped, making my skin freeze.

I couldn't see due to it being pitch black, but I still kept on, my legs never stopping. The only thing warm were my salty tears, which never seemed to stop rushing down my face.

I wasn't sure where I was, so I tried to slow down my pace as I slipped on ice, and my head rammed into a wall. The pain almost immediately giving me raging headache as I pressed a hand onto it.

I slowly slid down the ice-cold brick wall, not having the energy to move anymore.

My day was so fucking shitty.

Slowly, my arms wrapped around my limp body to suffice as something to cover me from the snow that still continued to fall from the sky.

Before I knew it, my eyes closed due to the pain in my head and my arms were wrapped not only around my body but my stomach.

"Kō." was the last thing my voice could manage out before I slipped into unconsciousness on the ground.

Muffled voices in a room awoke me with the annoying sound of beating. I felt warmth surrounding me and bandages on my face as I opened my eyes.

I squinted at the bright lights that were on the ceiling. I slowly sat up and looked at everyone in the room around me.

It was a hospital room and the annoying sound was my heart.

My parents, Bokuto's mom, Bokuto, and Akaashi, were in the room with me. I looked down at my lap, not liking how all the attention was on me at once.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Bokuto open his mouth as if he were to say something but shut it when the doctor came into the room.

"Hi, mom, dad. If you don't mind, I'm just going to check up on your daughter," she said as she rounded my bed.

"Hello sweetie, how do you feel?" She gathered a flashlight and a clipboard, ready to write.

"My head hurts." The voice that came out was all scratchy and low. It seemed to make my mom lean more into my dad, as if to hide her tears. The doctor handed me a cup of water.

"Well, you did hit it pretty hard. Are you warm enough? I can add another heated blanket if you want; make yourself comfortable. We still need to check if the baby is okay." She reached for another blanket as I froze.

"Excuse me?" My voice came out slightly panicked.

What baby?

"Don't worry, we already told your parents, so you don't need to worry about that." She concluded with a comforting smile.

"No, no. What do you mean? I'm not pregnant." I said, I was confused; I'm pretty sure I wasn't pregnant. Or at least, I think.

My eyes immediately reached Bokuto's sorrowful ones.

"Oh my god." I covered my mouth with my left hand as my right one went to my stomach. I couldn't believe what was happening right now.

"Oh. Mom, dad, and other mom, how about we give these two a few minutes to talk?" She politely said, giving Kō and I some time to discuss this.

Silence fell over the now empty room; Bokuto was the first one to speak up.

"(Y/n), I'm sorry for acting like that. I just wanted to play volleyball so bad, but that doesn't excuse my actions. When the guys found you and you were shivering uncontrollably and bleeding, I didn't know what to do.

“On top of that, you were out there with.. our baby in you." After he had finished, tears fell from his somber, golden eyes.

I reached a hand to his face and wiped a tear away while he leaned into my hand.

"Kō, I forgive you. But a baby? We're still in school, and you have your volleyball career that you plan on pursuing, and I still don't know what I want to be." I nervously stated, my eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. We'll work through it together, okay? We'll be the greatest parents ever." He gave me the smile that I missed the most.

And that reassurance was all I needed to process that we could handle this together.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/reblog if used <3

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #15

A/N: I'm a couple hours late on this one, but after struggling all day yesterday to get a few hundred words written, I cranked out about 2k in two and a half hours so I'm forgiving myself (:

xxx i did good, right?

They'd had a fight.

It's not unusual for Jason and Bruce to butt heads, but the one this evening was...bad. The worst in a while. The back-and-forth had gotten increasingly heated until it devolved into a shouting match. Jason knows he shouldn't have said it, but Bruce just kept pushing, even when Jason tried to walk away, and it had just kind of...slipped out.

Except, that's not quite true. Because he knew that bringing up that night, the one with the clown and the crowbar and the explosion, was certain to bring the fight to an end. It was a weapon, and he'd taken aim and pulled the trigger.

If he closes his eyes, he can still see the look on Bruce's face. The way the color had drained from him and he'd looked briefly startled, ripped open, as though Jason really had shot him. The cold, steely rage had hardened his features a second later, as Bruce pointed at the door and said—not yelled, but spoken, voice low and seething—Get out.

Jason had. He'd hopped on his bike and left without another word. The others know to give him space for at least a few days when this happens.

So Jason understands Barbara's surprise when he contacts her.

"Hood? Are you okay?"

Jason can tell by her tone that she knows about the fight. Babs always knows. They don't call her Oracle for nothing.

"You know Riverview Apartments?" Jason asks, ignoring the question.

"Yeah, there have been reports of a gas leak. They're evacuating now."

"I noticed that," Jason says, and Barbara makes a sound.

"You're there?"

"I'm in the alley on the west side of the building. I was, like, two blocks away and some kid flagged me down to help. First responders still haven't shown up. Any idea when someone will get here?"

"They're trying, but traffic is terrible with the--"

"The Knights game." Jason heaves a sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose before remembering that he's wearing the helmet. "Right, I forgot about that."

"What's going on? Is somebody hurt?"

"There are five kids stuck on an elevator."

He glances over at the kid who'd stopped him to ask for help. The boy is probably nine or ten. His skinny arms are wrapped around himself and he's trembling, tears and snot running down his face. Apparently, the kids are on the elevator because he'd bet them that he could run down six flights of stairs and get to the bottom before them.

They were still on it when the fire alarm was pulled.

"My brother told me you helped him when he was in trouble, and now I think I'm in trouble," he'd said before explaining the situation. And then he'd broken down. "It's my fault. It's all my fault."

"I have to help him," Jason says. He half expects Babs to tell him it's dangerous, that he shouldn't go inside and that he should just wait for the fire department.

Instead she says, "There should be a Knox Box in the lobby next to the elevator, the elevator drop key will be in there with the rest.It looks like they're between the first and second floors, so the second floor is probably your best bet. Be careful."

"I will," Jason says. "I will, thank you."

He turns to the kid, dropping to a crouch. "Hey," he says. The boy turns to him with wide, watery eyes. "What's your name?"

"Ube," the kid whimpers.

"Ube," Jason repeats. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the bony, shivering shoulders. "I'm gonna get your friends out of there, okay Ube?"

Ube nods, and Jason gives his hair a tousle before heading inside.

The Knox Box is exactly where Barbara said it would be. They're only supposed to be accessible to first responders, a way for them to easily get into rooms without having to break a bunch of windows and doors. Tim had figured out how to get into them, though, and Jason is grateful for that knowledge now. It only takes him a few seconds to get into it and find the elevator key, and then it's up to the second floor. The fire alarm is jarringly loud in the stairwell, and he takes the steps two at a time, grateful the he only has to go up one flight of stairs.

Even with the mask on, the sulfur-y smell is stronger on the second floor. It makes sense; the first floor is more open, and has big doors that have been opening and closing as tenants evacuate. He doesn't know how much of this stuff it's safe to breathe in, or if it made it into the elevator car with those kids. He just knows that he has to get them out of here.

He bangs on the elevator door with one fist, and startled cries erupts from inside.

"Hey!" he calls over the din. "Hey, listen, I'm here to help! I need you guys to stand back from the doors, okay?"

The volume of little voices only increases as he fits the drop key into the circular keyhole. It takes a bit of wiggling for it to work, but then there's a thunk and when Jason tries the doors, they open easily. He'd half-expected to be looking down at the top of the elevator car, but it's partway up. There's about two feet of space between the floor he's on and the ceiling of the elevator. He gets down on his belly so he can get a better look inside and is met with a chorus of screams.

"Whoa!" he says, quickly pushing himself up and taking off the helmet before lowering himself again. He peers into the elevator and smiles. "Hey, sorry about that! I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Jay, I'm here to help. Your friend Ube sent me."

"Ube did?" a little girl with a dinosaur hair-clip says, taking a hesitant step forward. Jason nods.

"Yeah. I'm going to need all of you to listen really close and do what I say, okay?"

There are nods and murmured okays.

"Which one of you is tallest?" Jason asks.

"Peter," says one kid.

"Yeah, Peter!"

"Peter?" says Jason, and a freckled kid with a mop of brown wavy hair moves toward him. He is the tallest, but with a group of kids that look to be between the ages of seven and eleven, that's really not saying much. Jason braces his right arm, the one further from the elevator, against the ground and reaches down into the elevator with his left.

"Okay, Peter, I want you to come reach as high as you can, okay?"

Peter looks terrified, but does as he's told. Even with both of them reaching toward each other, though, Jason doesn't get a great grip on Peter's arm, and he's not confident that he could lift him out. He'll barely be able to reach the other kids. He's also really not looking to dislocate any kids' shoulders today.

"You can go back with your friends," Jason says, letting go of Peter. "I'm gonna get in the elevator with you guys, give me just a second."

The gap is wide enough that he doesn't have too much trouble fitting through it, and he drops into the elevator car. It sways slightly, and one of the little girls shrieks.

"It's okay!" Jason says. "It's alright. I'm gonna lift you guys out now, okay? Once you're out, you need to go down the stairs to the lobby, and then straight outside, understand? Find your parents, and if you don't see them then stick together and wait for the police or the firefighters and they'll help you."

The two oldest are big enough the he's mostly just giving them a boost to get up and out. The other three he has to fully lift, but they're small and light and it's not too hard. The little girl with the dinosaur hair-clip is last.

"Who's gonna help you out?" she says, and Jason smiles at her.

"I don't need help," he says. "Ready?"

She nods, and he lifts her out.

Getting himself out of the elevator car is definitely more awkward than getting into it had been, and it takes a bit of trial and error before he figures out the best way to go about it. He picks his helmet up off of the floor and puts it on.

"Oracle, you there?"

"Hood! Good to hear from you. Everything going okay? The fire department should be getting there any minute, now."

"Well, that's good, but they're a little late. I already got all the kids out of the elevator. They're headed outside now."

Babs lets out a sigh of relief. "You should follow them. We won't know for sure until the professionals get in there, but from what I've been seeing it looks like it's a pretty major gas leak."

"I'm going," Jason says, reaching for the door to the stairwell. His fingers have just wrapped around the handle when there's a low, booming sound, and the ground beneath his feet shakes. He lets go of the door handle, reflexively throwing his arms out as he tries to keep his balance.

"Jay?" Babs is louder in his ear, frantic. "What was that?"

"I think--" Jason begins, and then the ground beneath him crumbles away and he's falling.

xxx

Jason can't breathe. He doesn't know why right away, just knows that his lungs are refusing to cooperate and his chest is aching. He's just starting to think he's done for when his diaphragm suddenly remembers how to do its job. He sucks in a long, gasping breath and is greeted with a sharper, brighter pain. It's the kind of pain that comes from broken ribs. What the hell...

He tries to sit up, but that makes his whole body hurt and his head swim, so he stops moving and tries to figure out what the fuck is going on. The memories come back slowly at first, fragmented and out of order. Babs yelling in his ear, the smell of sulfur, his coat hanging off the shoulders of a boy who reminds him of him, Bruce angry and shouting and stepping too close, a dinosaur hairpin – and then everything comes flooding back.

Gas leak.

Explosion.

He feels like he's gonna be sick and quickly scrambles for his helmet. Pain lances through his left forearm, so he ends up pushing the helmet off with one hand, barely getting it off before he turns to the side and pukes up bile. There's the taste of blood, too, but he's pretty sure that's from his tongue which he's bitten through. Throwing up makes the pain in his chest worse and after he's finished he just lays there a second, eyes closed, panting.

When he finally opens his eyes, it takes them several moments to adjust to the dark. Even then, he can barely see his right hand when he holds it in front of his face.

Crap.

He reaches for his helmet again on the off chance that the comms are still working. His hand lands on the smooth, rounded top of the helmet and he skims his fingers down so that he can grip the bottom edge of the helmet. As he does, his fingers find a huge crack in the back of the material and he freezes. It's almost enough to make him sick again. If he hadn't been wearing it--

He forces the thought down. So, the helmet is definitely busted then. Which means he can't call Oracle or Nightwing or anyone for help. He's on his own for this one. It's a sobering thought.

It would probably be a good idea to figure out what kind of shape he's in before he tries to move again, so he decides to take a quick inventory. His head, miraculously, isn't cracked open like an egg. He's got a headache, but he doesn't think there's any blood. There's no pain in his neck, and his right arm seems fine, minus some aching in the back of his shoulder from landing on his back when he fell. It takes a bit of hyping himself up before he checks the left side. An experimental wiggle reveals the his left shoulder is also okay, but god his arm hurts. He reaches over with his right hand, gingerly feeling the limb. He lets out a low groan as he finds a large bump in the middle of his forearm that is definitely not supposed to be there.He's already established that he has some rib fractures. Moving down his body, he doesn't really notice any abdominal pain. And his legs are...stuck.

His legs are stuck.

His heart-rate jumps up to a gallop.

"No, no, no." His voice comes out as a raw whisper as panic tightens its grip on him.

He doesn't know how he didn't notice sooner. There must be a piece of debris near him that kept the slab of concrete from crushing his legs entirely, but still, he's stuck. He closes his eyes.

I don't need help. That's what he'd told the little girl on the elevator. He'd said something to a similar effect in his fight with Bruce.

I don't need help. Why did he--does he--say that?

His thoughts begin to spiral, and it almost feels like the ground is opening up again and this time it's going to swallow him.

He doesn't hear the sound of rubble shifting.

"Jay?"

The voice reaches through the dark and grabs Jason by the front of his shirt, hauling him from the looming depths of his despair. He opens his eyes.

He smiles.

xxx

He smiles.

Jason is half-buried under the rubble of a collapsed apartment building, but when he sees Dick, he actually smiles. It makes Dick's heart ache.

"Hey, Jaybird," he says, lowering himself onto the ground next to Jason. He sets the small lamp on the ground between them so they can see each other's faces.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," Jason says. His expression shifts. "The kids. Did the kids make it out?"

"The kids from the elevator? Yeah, Jason. They're all okay."

The crooked grin returns to Jason's face. There's blood on his teeth. "I did good." He rolls his eyes up to meet Dick's. "I did good, right?"

Dick smiles back, reaching over and gripping Jason's hand on his own. "You did great." He swallows, clears his throat, swallows again. "Listen, Jay. Help is coming but, uh. It's gonna be a bit complicated."

The corners of Jason's mouth twitch downward slightly, and his forehead creases. "Complicated?"

"Yeah. The debris fell so that there's this kind of...dome around you. There's a small opening that I was able to get in through." He doesn't add that he was explicitly told not to go through said opening.He continues. "But I'm a gymnast. For the firefighters and EMTs, with all their gear? There's just no way right now. So they're going to have to move some things around, and they're gonna go as fast as they can but they've gotta be careful, or else--"

"Or else it all comes crashing down." Jason's voice is flat. He's not looking at Dick anymore.

"Right," Dick says.

Jason blinks. He looks scared. And then his face rearranges itself into something tougher, and he looks back at Dick.

"You should get out of here."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"But--"

"I'm not. Leaving," Dicks says firmly, and Jason huffs out a sigh.

"Stubborn-ass."

Dick doesn't deny it.

xxx to be continued...

[cypherscript]

In Bad Taste Part 2

"Four feet?!" The entirety of the league at the meeting is up on their feet. "Why so fast?"

"Do you have any pictures of the orb or the bodies? Were they dead," Batman asks as he pulls up the location of the League's hideout via a satellite trying to gain visual of what she was talking about.

"All but one. Why did you send Hood? I thought he was on your no go list."

"Hood's been getting better, he was the most logical one to infiltrate the League; he was already in good graces with them when Talia used the pits to bring him back. Being on my no go list made it seem like he was no longer associated with me. I have visual, why did they have the orb out in the middle of the courtyard?"

"I have some footage of the scene, they appeared to have been trying to cast some kind of spell to link the orb with other locations or maybe to expand its radius of effect. It's not completed," Zatanna places a device into a port on the table and pictures of a large magic circle surrounds the larger orb. The next few pictures were of the corpses lined up, some of the faces looking familiar to Bruce.

"So Ras is gone then, that's the man right there."

"So it appears," Zatanna agrees, switching the screen to one of the orb, with it being so big now details not seen are clear.

Superman looks at the picture closely, "Is it just me or does that look like a a bunch of stars?"

Batman says nothing as he runs the image through multiple star charting programs, "You're correct, Superman. I'm getting multiple confirmations; Perseus-Pisces, Pisces-Cetus, Ursa Major, the Centaurus Cluster, The Milky Way, Sto-Oa, Rao. It keeps going, it shows to be every star in our sky as well."

"Rao," Superman asks, looking for the familiar star by its formation. "How old is this thing?"

"We should contact Hal and the lanterns to let them know. This could be one of theirs or maybe the Guardians know what it is?"

"I'm sending the message now," Batman types away at the keypad, "While we wait for them I'm going to check on Hood."

"We'll come with you," Diana says as Bruce moves the files to his personal device.

"Do as you wish. Zatanna bring in Constantine, we may need his help."

***

The Justice League have arrived at the compound just thirty minutes later and it is swarming with more assassins and goons. Talia's there giving orders, "Remember! Squad D, do not go near the artifact! Everyone else is fine to approach, I want this circle destroyed post haste!"

Batman had snuck his way into their camp and put Talia in a hold, "Why are you here, Talia?"

"Br-" Batman tightens his hold painfully, "Batman, I suppose you're here for Jason?"

"Where is he?!"

"He's safe, you don't want to see him right now. He's back to the way he was when I first found him. It's not a pretty sight."

"Fine, what's with the orb then? You didn't answer my question, I know your father is dead, why are you here?"

"Same reason you are I suppose, I'm putting a stop to father's plans for this artifact. He planned on linking it with every Lazarus Pit on the planet, he believed this to be the heart of the god who made the pits and wished to bring it back. To bad for him he didn't know what I now know; it's not just the Lazarus waters it's absorbing, it's also draining the energy from those who have died and come back via other means. It hasn't killed anyone yet, just makes them unable to move until they're removed from its radius."

Batman releases her and taps his comms, "Batman reporting in, stay away from the compound."

Superman's comms respond, "I heard, I was able to pull myself back before I couldn't move. Felt like the life of me was being drained. Zatanna and Constantine seem to be fine, Wonder Woman says it feels like hades is staring into her soul from here."

"It feels like it's looking at me," Shazam pipes in.

"Noted, fill them in on what's going on. We need some league members who haven't been resurrected before. Let Talia's men destroy the circle then we can figure out a way to get it off the planet and away from the pits."

"Well aren't you the lucky lot," Hal's voice comes in over their comms, "Calvary's here. I can get it off planet for you."

______________________________________________

And there we go, part 2 like I promised. Also you were close @victoria-has-no-secret but it's ALL of the people who've been resurrected not just the pits. mwahahaha Now to get the tag list out of the way. hope I'm doing this right... As I was typing this up, it seemed like I made the Orb sound like an SCP... hmm, thoughts for future works.

@mnemovoid @may-rbi @cugzarui @ekatkit @farmercale @blackroserelina @justwannabecat @dragonborne-writer @aikoiya @chrysanthemum9484

[rxmqnova]

My little troublemaker

Y/N: 4 years old Lizzie: 19 years old ——————————————————

LIZZIE'S POV Having a little todler running around the house is not easy. Especially when you're only 19 and you're raising your child alone. The judging looks by other people when Y/N calls me 'mom' in the store or just somewhere in public aren't helping at all, but I wouldn't change a thing in my life.

Y/N wasn't planned at all. Her father left me right after I told him I want to keep her. He was quite rude about it which only made things so much harder, but I'm trying my best to give her as much love as I can. I know for sure she'll ask me the question about her dad in the future, but for now I'm trying my best to make up for both parents and to make sure she has everything she needs.

I do have an amazing family though. My parents and siblings are helping me as much as they can which I'll be forever grateful for. Also my daughter is the most amazing little human in the world. She's pretty smart on her age and thank god she's not one of those children who throw tantrums about everything.

Y/N and I had a movie night yesterday, so I'm not even surprised when I find myself surrounded by a bunch of blankets and Y/N's teddy bears after waking up. My eyes widen when I don't find my daughter underneath the blankets or anywhere in the room though. She's usually the one who wakes me up by laying her small body on mine and squishing my cheeks with her tiny hands.

"Y/N?" I look around the room once again, not seeing her anywhere. I immediately rush down the stairs to find her. "Oh my god, Y/N!" I raise my voice when I see her standing on a chair in the kitchen, a knife in her hand. I quickly lift her up, immediately taking the knife from her hand. "Honey, you could have hurt yourself. You can't use a knife without me knowing" I sigh, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Are you okay?"

"But I wanted to make you breakfast" She pouts, crossing her arms.

"Oh did you?" I raise an eyebrow which makes her giggle. Y/N nods with a smile, pointing at a piece of bread which is placed on the kitchen counter. "That's for me?"

"Yes, mama! You have to try!" She grins, happily kicking her legs.

"Thank you, sweetheart. I will try it out right now" I take the bread and sit down on a chair with Y/N on my lap. I take a bite, trying hard to pretend like it's really good. I don't know what's in this, but it really doesn't taste good.

"Do you like it?" Y/N asks with a huge smile, watching me carefully.

"It's really good, sweetheart. Thank you. It's so good that I'm gonna save it for later" I smile at her, Y/N nodding her head and smiling at me in response. "But what would you say on some pancakes now, hm?" I boop her nose which never fails and always makes her smile.

"Yay!" Y/N cheers, throwing her arms in the air.

———————————

"Mommy? Do I have a dad?" Y/N asks quietly, watching me with her big green eyes. I just tucked her in for bed and I definitely wasn't expecting this question tonight.

"I. Hm… You do have a dad, sweetheart. Why are you asking?" I give her a smile and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She needs to know she can ask me or speak to me about everything.

"Because the boys from my preschool say it's weird to only have a mommy" She explains, adding a dramatic sigh to the end.

"It's not weird at all, honey. A lot of children have only a mommy or only a daddy. Sometimes it just happens, but it doesn't mean it's weird" I tell her, stroking her cheek with my finger.

"But why, mommy? Why isn't he here with us?" She asks, wrapping her little arms around my neck. I take a deep breath, thinking about what to tell her. But I think it'll be better to just tell her the truth somehow, even though it's not really nice.

"You know, baby… Your dad was very mean to mommy, so she decided she's better without him" I tell her honestly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I don't like him then. You are the bestest and nicest mommy in the world" Y/N pouts, making me wonder how did I get so lucky to have her as my daughter.

"I love you the most, my little monkey" I smile, pushing back my tears. Y/N's words really got me. "It's getting late now though and you need to get some sleep, so we can play all day tomorrow" I rub the tip of my nose against hers, making her smile.

"I love you, mama" She says, pouting her lips for a kiss. I peck her lips with a kiss before pulling up the covers to her chest. "Mommy, my teddy bear!" She suddenly gasps, looking around the bed to find her favorite teddy.

"I'll bring him. Stay here and don't move" I warn before standing up and walking to find Y/N's favorite teddy.

I make my way to the living room and as I expected, she left him there, so now I'm on my way back to the bedroom.

"I found him, baby. You left him in the-" I start, cutting myself off when I see Y/N sitting on the table in front of the window, her face and hands pressed against the glass. "Y/N, that's really dangerous. How did you get there?" I sigh, immediately lifting her up on which she whines.

"But there was a butterfly, mama" She pouts.

"A butterfly? Now? At night?" I raise an eyebrow on which Y/N nods. "That was probably a moth, sweetheart. But no climbing on the table when mama isn't with you, okay?"

"Yes, mama" Y/N says with that cute pout again.

"It's really time for bed now, my little troublemaker"

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

Elizabeth Olsen masterlist

Masterlist

[kindlingkeen]

Yo as the resident Jason Todd fan, maybe you can answer this for me because I haven’t been able to find the answer anywhere else.

At some point in RHATO, Jason gives up his most cherished memory. The one where he’s sick & Bruce stayed home with him.

He was offered it back, and told them to keep it. He refused the offer. I’ve heard that the memory gets mentioned again later but I don’t know if he ever actually really takes it back.

Do you know if he ever gets it back? It’s both sad and not if he doesn’t, because on one hand he’s losing a good memory, but on the other I think it helps cut him off from Batman. Which really might be good for him (looks at all the other comic issues w how Bruce has treated Jason)

Hey, anon. Thanks for the ask! 💙

I’m by no means an expert on the comics, but I did have a bit of a comic-buying hissy fit a bunch of months ago trying to answer this exact question for myself. Here’s what I concluded (complete with pretty pictures because I’m a firm believer in citing your sources):

So in the new 52 rhato #3 (written by Scott Lobdell), Jay, Roy and Kori each give up their most cherished memory to gain entrance to the Chamber of All. The memories are held by Sa’ru (an all powerful being is also apparently a bratty child?).

Sa’ru gives Roy and Kori their memories back when they exit the chamber, but Jay refuses his.

Skip forward a bunch of issues to rhato #19 and Jason actually has Sa’ru take all his memories after a thing with the Joker (that’s a whole different blog post) and he ends up with complete amnesia. The series is being written by James Tynion at this point, not Scott Lobdell.

But Jason eventually gets all of his memories back in rhato #26.

I think you can make a reasonable argument that Tynion intended this to include his most cherished memory, as Jason talks about remembering his finest moments, his lowest moments, etc. Note, the series is still being written by Tynion.

But now skip way way ahead to rhato rebirth #34, and we get this exchange. 

So, no, I guess he didn’t get it back? Note, that the series is back to being written by Lobdell at this point.

Honestly, I think this is just another stellar example of dc saying, continuity, consistency? What are these strange and foreign concepts? And thus authors doing whatever they want, to hell with any prior storylines. Tynion was clearing going for an arc where Jason reclaimed his memories. Lobdell had a different idea in mind.

I don’t know that it really matters either way. I mean it’s one memory, right? So even if it’s gone, Jason’s second most cherished memory just moves up into spot numero uno. Based on how much Bruce clearly meant to Jason, and that Bruce was actually a good Dad in most of the comics featuring Robin!Jason, I’m guessing that that memory is of the two of them together, too.

I’d say go with whatever makes you happy and fits your own head canons for Jason. I hate the whole storyline and pretend it doesn’t exist while I stick my tongue out at dc and tell them liberally to fuck right off.

Hopefully that was helpful/informative, or at least worth a merit badge toward my resident Jason Todd fan status (I’m expecting my vest in the mail any day now).

[dee-the-red-witch]

how did you get past “just being gnc”? asking for me, i’ve been in that mindset on and off for years. if you don’t mind sharing

I... okay, look, that's like a question with two other subtextual ones rolled up into it in a donut all at once. And I have an all-day road trip tomorrow, so I don't have a ton of spoons to spare, but I'm still gonna try and tackle all three. And I'm gonna hit the subtext questions first, because they're important and play into it. 1. What's a good way to come out as trans?

There fucking isn't one. For anyone of any gender. There is no perfect way for anyone to come out. It will always be awkward, there's always going to be some kind of price to pay, and you are never going to know that full price up front. It's also just about always less than the price of NOT coming out, though. 2. What's a good way for *ME* to come out as trans?

Okay, this one ties into my own story some, but the shorter version? I don't know. I can't tell you. Because I don't know your details and what's going to work for you or how. What I can tell you is that nobody is going to magically guess it for you, no one's going to give you permission to do it, and you're gonna have to start it yourself. There's folks that will absolutely help later down the line, but you have to initiate and start things, even if it's babysteps. Case in point... 3. ENOUGH SUBTEXT, DENICE, how'd YOU get past just being a guy?

It's complicated. I'd been in denial since the late 90's. so there was a LOT of personal bullshit, and art, and other work, and everything, packed up in and around my gender like mad. Like a wad of gum with a bunch of other stuff stuck to it- and sometimes when a piece finally got pulled free, part of the gum came up with it. Bad analogy, probably. Still. When I finished writing, and laying out, and publishing my first book (and practically screaming HI! IT ME! AM TRANS! in the afterword and other bits, because that's what happens when I write a historical horror novel with a GNC-transmasc-ish protag) I felt empty. Hollow. For months. I was trying and struggling to get a second book off the ground, and having this weight start settling over my head. Only it was like three months early for my usual denial ideation episode. Meanwhile, on facebook, my friend J who was dealing with the tail end aftershocks of a nasty divorce from an even nastier asshole. And of course she was going off about a very rational distrust and dislike of Men and some of their behaviors in particular, and I just had that goddamn black wave of ideation set in on me in full and was mentally internally screaming "But I'm not a fucking man!" and I did the one thing I'd never done in twenty plus years of dysphoria, denial and ideation. I said it out loud. Nobody in the apartment to even hear me. But I said it. And repeated it. And so help me, that depression/denial/ideation wave that I knew was going to end with me hurting myself or worse started immediately fading. I started switching my pronouns over to they/them on my social medias almost immediately. Like I said. Baby steps. But it was enough- one of my partners noticed the update and flat out asked me about it the next time she was over, and that's how I ended up coming out as nonbinary to both her and the rest of my immediate family. And a few days later online all over as well. Realizing I was a girl took a bit, because enby felt right, but not all the way right. I'd started t-blockers already because I knew I had dysphoria issues (just no idea how serious they were) and then started E. All of which was made easier by being in an informed-consent state and having a doctor who had zero issues with prescribing them, and more than a little bit of a mad scientist nature. Three days into Estrogen I just had this one weird moment of driving and hitting a sunny patch of road and suddenly I was happy and laughing in a way I'd NEVER been. That's when it started really clicking for me. When I realized that what had been holding me back was a lot of internalized shame and conditioning that I needed to unpack and get rid of. That's all where I started. (and yes, it meant a whole extra round of comings out and updates and everything, but well, here I am.) I hope that wall of text helps some? But yeah. Take baby steps. Things move from there as you figure it out. But you can't figure it out while you're holding yourself back.

[balloonboyismyson]

One Kiss is All it Takes (Monty Gator x Reader oneshot)

You work as a nightguard at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex. One night, Monty sends you a message asking for help. Concerned, you make your way to his room to see if he's okay.

(926 words)

The sound of your boots clunking against the tile echoes throughout the foyer. You lightly hum as you walk, flicking on and off your flashlight just to do something with your hands. Rockstar Row is probably your favourite part of the whole Pizzaplex. With all the beautiful neon signs, you get depressed that most people coming in during the day don’t really get to see them. 

You scan the left wall and observe the greenrooms. It must be frustrating being them- having one of your room’s walls be a pane of glass so that everyone around can look inside like they’re zoo animals. It’s at least… something…that Management gives them a curtain to block outside viewers. 

You pass Freddy and Roxy’s rooms. They thankfully seem too preoccupied with other things to notice. You know you’ll see them later tonight, so you don’t feel that guilty about it.

As soon as you had entered the ‘plex you got a message from Monty. He said he had an “issue” without really explaining what that meant. You placed your bets that he broke his glasses and needs a new pair. It’s happened a few times, but the only difference tonight is that you feel like he could’ve asked dayshift to get them for him. 

Upon walking up to his room you notice an eerie silence. Usually he’s either practicing or breaking things, so the lack of movement makes you a bit nervous. Knock knock “Monty? It’s me, I got your message.” There’s a small shuffle before you can hear the thud of his footsteps getting closer to the door. 

When you see him, an aura of nervousness seems to permiate from him. He always tries to act as confident as possible around you, so the shift is concerning. “Hey, Cher.” You note he still has his glasses which are perfectly intact. Even through their opacity, you can tell he’s not actually looking at you. “Is everything okay?” Your voice goes soft. 

He pauses for a moment before lifting up his right arm, showing you a large hole on his inner forearm. The perimeter of it has a lot of sharp pieces with a bunch of cracks. His hand, too, has been damaged. His thumb barely has casing. “Oh my god, Monty!” Your hands move quickly to the damaged arm and carefully hold it, “What happened!?”

Monty lets out a small, uncomfortable huff. “ ‘T’s not a big deal,” He mumbles, looking as far away from you as he can. “Can you fix it?” 

Your eyebrows furrow at the question. “I-I’m sorry, I’m just a nightguard, I’ve never worked with machinery.” He seems to deflate a bit at this. “I can put in a maintenance request, though.” Quickly, you use your watch to send an email to the people down in Parts ‘n’ Service so they can fix him as soon as they get here in the morning. You feel helpless and like total shit. 

Briefly looking past him, you see his room’s in shambles. You’re surprised, usually he waits until closer to closing before breaking things. He notices and goes to pull his arm away. “Right, well, thanks for-” 

“Hang on-” you cut him off as an idea suddenly comes to mind, “come with me.” Monty looks at you with a confused expression. “..Alright.” 

Hand in hand, you walk him through Rockstar Row and take him down to the utility tunnels. Eventually the two of you come across a First-Aid Station and usher him inside and tell him to sit. “Why’d’ya take me here?” 

“I don’t know anything about machinery, but I’ve patched myself up quite a few times.” You quickly scan for and find a first-aid kit. When searching inside, you see some expired alcohol wipes, a syringe with a numbing agent, and bandage wrap. You shake your head at how awful this would be in case of a human child being injured and grab the bandage wrap. You take the end off of the body and start wrapping his arm with it. “...Cher?” He cocks his head at you. “You know ’m not human, right? I can’t heal.” 

“I know, but I don’t wanna just leave you hurt.” You concentrate on your task, each wrap specifically calculated to ensure there’s enough to cover the wound. Even then there’s barely enough, so unfortunately, his hand remains unbandaged.

“Does it hurt?” Your voice is quiet as you follow along the layers of bandage with the side of your thumb, barely even grazing him. Your eyes meet his. 

Monty holds your gaze for a beat too long before responding. “O-Only when it first happens. Can’t feel it after that.” You squint your eyes; he’s squirming a bit. You take his bandaged arm again and gently place a kiss where the now-covered hole is. If there was a roof on the First-Aid Station, he’d have gone through it. 

“Did I hurt you!?” You yelp as your hands quickly clench and retreat back to your sides. “No, no! I jus’... I didn’t expect that.” He readjusts his glasses and places his hand back down on his leg. Even for a robot his body looks stiff.

“It’s what people tend to do when they patch someone up. I’ve heard when you kiss someone’s wound, it’s much easier for your love to make its way to their heart.” He just stares at you- his jaw repeatedly opening and closing just a smidge each time. His hands begin to slightly tremble as he looks down at the bandage. “Thanks… this’ll tide me over ‘till maintenance comes.” 

[kedreeva]

Just fb wank and genetics I'm gonna broil myself about

there's a fairly well-known aviary on facebook that belongs to one of the peafowl groups I'm in - the group I was specifically invited into in order to help people because so many people had bad knowledge of things - who keeps making posts "educating" people about things.

Except a lot of the time, they're just wrong. Last night they posted about "double gene expression" when what they mean was coexpression. they also said a bunch of other stuff like "basic recessive" when they meant autosomal, and when someone got confused, I explained to that confused person what they meant. The aviary (whom I've engaged with before when they were saying incorrect things and confusing people), told me off and tried to say they were "simplifying" things to talk to the public and that they "don't use impressive words just because they can."

LIKE. If you use a big word you aren't sure everyone will understand.... just explain it. At least give them the right term so they can look it up themselves! Saying "double gene expression" just confuses people. Say "showing two colors at the same time" if you really think it's going to be confusing. Say "coexpression, which is where two traits (in this case color 1 and color 2) are displayed at the same time instead of one being dominant over the other." PEOPLE WILL GET IT. Double implies the same gene is being expressed twice or expressed more. It's not!! god at WORST you could say dual gene expression if you really had to. Saying "basic recessive" implies there's a complex recessive. Even just saying "non-sex-linked" would be better if you don't want to use the scientific term.

I'm just mad because, like, don't place yourself in a perceived position of authority, claim you are educating people, and then get a bunch of stuff wrong. Because then /I/ have to deal with it later, because then people take you at your word, and spread incorrect info that eventually means I end up having to explain to some random person later on that no, that's not actually what that means and no, that's not actually how you do that etc. You are actively making my life harder when people come to me wanting to learn about peafowl genetics- which is what happens when I'm the person who put out two of the most comprehensive peafowl genetics guides on the internet.

and he's tried to go toe to toe with me before and lost because he couldn't answer my questions when asked, so he's refusing now by just saying he's not gonna use big words or explain where I'm wrong. And I can't strangle someone through a computer screen but I sure hope he stubs a toe today for giving me this headache.

[shelbycompanylmtd]

We’re All Whores

Warnings: smut 😉

6am. What a stupid time to arrive at work. It’s what I get for being the book keeper at the Shelby Betting Den. Thomas Shelby is an early riser, this means we all have to be early risers.

I’d walked down Watery Lane smoking the last of my cigarette, throwing it into the gutter just outside the den. As I pushed open the door I heard voices in the main room. I smiled and spoke a ‘morning’ to Thomas, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. As I walked past I met eyes with the best looking man I’d ever seen. I broke eye contact as his eyes followed me towards my office, secretly smiling and blushing.

I pottered around the betting shop, finding the books I needed to work out the earnings for the week. I heard Tom shout my name from his office. Leaving the books behind on one of the tables, I walked over to his office.

‘Yes Tom?’ I answered at his door. ‘Will you walk Bonnie down to the Boxing gym? I’m just writing up some contracts for Mr Gold to sign and then we’ll be right behind you’ he asked. I smiled at Tom, ‘Yeah no problem, let me just get my coat’. I walked out of the room, as did Bonnie, and put my coat on.

Tom called me back to his office and as I walked towards the door he met me just outside it. ‘I see that look in your eye, don’t do what I think you’re going to do. You’re not a Whore’ he said to me. I smirked, ‘I’m not a whore if I do it for free’. I turned to walk away.

He says these things to try and protect me. However, I’m just a neighbour’s daughter that he decided to employ. He couldn’t really tell me what to do.

I caught up to Bonnie at the front door. ‘So you’re a boxer?’ I asked as we began to walk down the street. ‘Some would say, yes’ he said, being extremely vague. It made me extremely intrigued.

We got to know each other on the walk to the gym. As we arrived, I pointed him towards the changing rooms and hung around until Tom turned up with Mr Gold.

About an hour later, Bonnie was about to get into the ring to apparently show Tom what he was like as a fighter. The fight begun and both myself and Tom were confused as Bonnie wasn’t even trying.

Arthur turned up part way through the fight. I saw Tom whisper something to Mr Gold, after this he spoke. ‘Go on then Bon, finish it’. After this was said Bonnie floored the man he was fighting within seconds. He turned to face Tommy, as he did he made eye contact with me and gave me a wink.

Now I wasn’t focused on watching him fight. I took in Bonnie’s appearance. You wouldn’t think he had the build that he does but his arms are unreal. No wonder being a boxer, I stared at his arms and chest. Letting my mind wonder, probably to places that it shouldn’t have gone.

I noticed Bonnie jumping out of the ring whilst Tommy and Mr Gold shake hands. Clearly whatever the plan is, it’s going well.

As Bonnie walked through to the changing rooms, he turned back and beckoned me to follow him. Curiosity took over and I followed him, a nervous pit in my stomach.

As I rounded the corner, I was pulled by my waist and pushed against the wall. ‘What was that about you being a whore?’ Bonnie questioned. I giggled and held onto his arms, ‘only for you if that’s something you want’. After I said this he kissed me, desperately.

I let my hands travel down to the waist band of his shorts. He pulled away and stared me in the eyes, ‘you’re too pretty to be treated like a whore’. His words made me blush. ‘But what if I want to be treated like one’, I stared at him as I licked my lips. ‘Best give the princess what she wants’, he pulled me in for a kiss again.

As quickly as the sweet kiss started, it ended. Bonnie turned me around to face the wall, grinding his cock against me. He quickly pulled my skirt up to bunch around my waist. Quickly making use of his fingers by pulling aside my underwear and running his fingers over my clit. I moaned out. ‘Fucking hell love, dirty whore this wet for me?’ He carried on toying with me as he slid one finger in me. I whined and grabbed onto his arm that was holding my skirt.

‘Is this from watching me fight? Do you like watching me like that?’ He egged on. I moaned in reply. Moaning his name, begging for more. He slid another finger in me. ‘Are you going to cum?’ He whispers in my ear. ‘Yes, don’t stop please’ I whine out. ‘Fucking good girl, cumming on my fingers not even one day after you’ve met me’ his speed picks up.

I start to shake and grind back into his hand. I squeeze his arm as he leans round to pull me into another kiss. ‘You look so good like that, definitely won’t be the last time I make you do that’ he says as he gives my pussy a light slap.

I feel so tired as he keeps me up against the wall. He turns me round so my back is against the wall. ‘Are you gonna treat me right?’ He asks. I knew what he wanted as soon as he asked the question.

I bent down on my knees as he slowly runs his fingers through my hair. I pull at the waist band of his shorts until they finally come down. His cock stands up, bigger than I thought it would be. I smile as I look up at him. Grabbing hold of the base of his cock and licking a strip from base to tip. I slowly ease him into my mouth and he starts to guide my head back and forth.

He holds my head in place every so often so I’m practically swallowing his whole cock. ‘So good’ he whispers multiple times. He holds my head in place again as he slowly grinds, forcing his cock in and out of my mouth. I moan as I grip his thighs, letting him do what he wants to me. ‘Look so pretty, letting me use you’, he praises.

He slowly pulls his cock out of my mouth as I catch my breath. ‘You’re doing so good for me’ he praises as he helps me up. He walks me over to one of the tables in the room. Slowly undressing me, giving each body part a kiss as he removes my clothes. He guides my legs so they’re round his waist. He takes a hold of his cock as he rubs it up and down my clit, causing me to moan. He edges it into me and I can feel him stretch me open.

I grab one of his hands from my waist as I lie back on the table, opening up a different angle for him that felt so good. I took his hand and guided it to hold my throat. He took the hint and started to tighten his hand, a boxers grip has no limits. His other hand toying with my clit, pushing me over the edge. A tear runs down the side of my face as I moan out. He picks up the pace to push me over the edge as I scratch at his arm.

He carries on circling my clit as he pulls out of me, easing me down from my high. His hand comes off my throat as I catch my breath and he cums all over my stomach. As he comes down from our highs, he runs his hand up my thighs. Every so often giving my clit a light touch, loving the hold he has over me. I perch myself up on my elbows, seeing the mess he’s made.

I run my fingers over my stomach and bring them up to my mouth. Bonnie admires me in awe. He leans down to kiss me, ‘definitely my whore now’.

[scrubbinn]

Slime HRT 4 Months: Sunset & Sunrise

Content warning: Dark tone, Family trauma

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

 I'm writing this a bit sooner than I thought. I don't actually want to write this out, but everyone keeps telling me I'll feel better if I express my feelings. To be honest to myself, I really hope that's the case, I could really use a pick-me-up. 

So I ended up talking with my family. Telling them everything. Not like I could hide it anymore, now that my hair is made of goo. I guess I can write about that first. Might be nice for a bit to just think about myself. I woke up last Sunday to find my hair a lot heavier than normal, it was already pretty gooey, with strands of hair sticking together or just kinda always being wet. It also felt a lot more rough than before, I could find split ends everywhere, everyday. That night though, the change in my body sped into overdrive. I woke up to find some of my hair giving way and sticking to my pillow. It's really weird, like those sandy soaps made of a bunch of spheres. It made it feel like I was wearing a pile of clay on my head. It also suds up super fast. Just a bit of water and my hair turns into a perm of soap bubbles. It doesn't have a smell but it gave me an idea. Plucking some lavender I was growing outside, I stuck some in my hair, after a couple hours my house flooded with the scent of that purple plant. I definitely put too much in, way too overpowering. Still, it's super cool to be able to change my scent. so now I've been looking into soap making recipes, after all, might as well take advantage of it.

But with every upside, there's a bunch of downsides too. Nothing physical of course, well besides the fact there's no way I could pass off sandy sky-blue sludge as normal hair no matter how many hats I put on, and Sundays just happen to be the day that my family likes to get together for brunch. I still haven't told them, I just couldn't. They wouldn't get it. I knew they wouldn't get it. So I made the decision to call my mother, to let her know I was feeling sick and I couldn’t make it. That's all it was supposed to be, just that. But when that phone call was about to end, when she told me she loved me I…

Everything spilled out at that point. It felt like it wasn't even me talking, I just had to sit there trapped in this wrong, wrong, wrong body as words and emotions poured out of my mouth that I didn't have a faucet to turn off. I don’t really even remember what I said, but I know what I told her, what I was doing, the pain I was going through, and the plea for forgiveness. She didn’t speak, not for a while at least. Then I heard it. The three words I didn’t want to hear, before she even spoke I could feel myself mentally barricading myself away from the inevitable blast my psyche was about to receive. “Are you sure?” 

Are you sure?? ARE YOU SURE?! What did that even mean??? Am I sure of what I’m doing? Am I sure everything will go alright? Am I sure I want to smash every mirror that gets near me? No. I knew what she was asking. It was all of them. It was every question. Are you sure it’s safe? Are you sure you can handle the harassment? Are you sure you want to hurt me and the people around you because of this? Maybe that last one isn’t fair to her. I don’t know. It felt like she said it.

I remember that night, when I told my mother I was trans. I was still living with her at that time. She asked the same question, and I told her yes. We talked for a while after that as I explained more of it to her, but when I climbed up to my bedroom, and when I looked back, her face was in her hands, and she had started to cry. She later admitted to me that she was terrified of possible persecution and the hate I’d get by simply existing. But that image was still stuck in my head, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I don’t expect to ever forgive it, and I could tell as I sat in my bed, holding my medication close, she had her head in her hands, holding back tears as she told me she loved me. I just apologized, I don’t know what for. I just felt like I had to. I said that I loved her, she said it again, and I hung up.

I spent the next few hours dissociating in my bed. Simply trying to stop thinking about how badly that all went. Bottling up every emotion I could get my hands on while the others I couldn’t reach in time became tears. It also turns out that goo for hair is really hard to maintain when under a lot of stress. When I came to, most of my hair had fallen onto my bed sheets. Spent way too much time scrubbing it out the scent of lavender. I don’t think I can stand that scent anymore. At least my new hair regrew quickly during my tea break. I don’t really know if writing all this helped. Maybe I’ll just have to sleep on it.

After I cleaned myself up, I spent the rest of the day ignoring my mental health. I just sat on my computer staring at a bunch of games I didn't want to play, and a bunch of videos I didn't want to watch. I sorta just stared at my monitor until I realized I had gotten around ten notifications from friends asking if I was doing alright. My girlfriend had messaged me before the phone call with my mother, and after not receiving a message for six hours, she started to get worried. She practically forced me into a voice call and wanted to make sure I was doing alright, I lied and said I was, she didn't believe me and didn't pry further. We talked for a while until I brought up the phone call on my own. Then she told me she loved me, and said she'd be there for me always. She stayed with me the entire time, as I started crying again, and she let me cry, waited patiently, and then asked if I wanted to watch some silly videos. I really did. Sometimes it's really hard to remember there's still people that do care about you. I'm sure my mother cares in her own way, even if she's not aware how much it messed me up. I don't know how things will go in the future, if there's going to be even more pain. But I think I'll be ok, at the very least there are people who can pick me up when I can't keep running, people who will slow down and walk with me. I'll be ok, I'm gonna run to see what the future holds.

Update: So, I'm not really sure how to say this. Writing about yesterday really helped me out so maybe today will help as well. I was working my shift today, construction work, and my legs suddenly gave out under me while I was carrying a heavy frame. It was like my bones just bent, and I couldn't stand up right. I basically got flattened but there weren't any serious injuries Or anything. My bones weren't broken, no bad cuts, just what's definitely going to be a lot of bruising. I got forced to take some extended medical leave. Paid of course, but I guess this means the next few months are just going to be focused on my changes while I wait around in bed. Which is good, I could use a change of pace.

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

Start - Prev - Next

Mention list: @a-shramp

[bagopucks]

M. Marner - Noise Cancelling

✄————————————

Mitch Marner x AUDHD!Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.0k

Warning(s): None!

I had this in the works from the moment it got requested. Then I got confused when TikTok started sharing me videos of Animal Crossing. I still can’t decide if AC is having a comeback or if my phone just thinks I’m interested in it now.

Over the weekend we had these severe storms and such, and I was like “let’s take on some tiny requests.” Then ya’ll blew my inbox up and I got so busy I got to NONE of them. So yeah.. gonna be a busy four days off work.

—————————————

Nothing irritates and upsets me more than loud noises. Living with Mitch, is like one constant loud noise. Just an ongoing bang inside my head. When he caught on to the wincing and the fidgeting that followed certain thuds and shouts, Mitch was good about learning to be quieter. Some noises though, were inevitable.

I learned to work around them, which always upset Mitch. I went out when he would do his at home workouts. The dropping of heavy weights and continuous thudding of his feet on the treadmill was always hard on me.

I didn’t attend many of his hockey games, if any at all. And if I did, I usually ended up on the office floors of the arena building, watching the game on my phone in one of the secretaries offices.

I took it in stride when his friends game over. I never made Mitch close his door to his team. I simply promised I would be back within an hour or so, and off I went to a park or library. Any quiet place I could find.

Thing is, I knew Mitch hated when I had to leave my comfort zone to find a new one. No matter how much assuring I did that I was fine, he always said he felt bad.

We didn’t have any solutions though. At least none I was willing to inform him of.

There was a pair of noise cancelling headphones I’d been looking at for a few months. I never informed him of them though, because they were expensive. Mitch already did so much for me, and I hated the idea that he’d jump at the opportunity to do more if he could. So I kept it to myself, on my laptop wishlist.

It wasn’t until one night that I couldn’t find my laptop, when I realized hiding anything from Mitch didn’t work.

“Hey, Mitchy.” I spoke as I walked through our house, my robe on and tied around my my waist. I’d gotten out of the shower close to a half an hour ago, but I got too comfortable in my robe to actually put clothes on. Mitch looked up at me from his phone. I could hear the faint music from Animal Crossing coming from his phone speaker. At first I convinced him to get it as a joke. Then he actually began to love it.

“What’s up?” Mitch asked, lowering his phone to his lap.

“My laptop is gone. I can’t find it anywhere.”

“I put it in the top drawer of the tv stand.”

I raised a brow at his words.

“Why’d you move it?” Sure, that’s where our laptops went, but Mitch didn’t move my stuff unless I asked him to. Mainly because I liked to have my things where I put them.

“I guess ‘cause I was using it.. just forgot to put it back where I found it.”

“You have your own.. why were you using mine?” I questioned, making my way over to the couch.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You better tell me. Better not be looking up weird stuff on my laptop.” Mitch had a tendency to be a hypochondriac. Which meant the first sign of abnormality in his body, and he was pulling up the internet searches.

And internet searches came with gross photos. The last thing I wanted was a bunch of unclosed tabs on weird illnesses and all the pictures that came with them.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

My expression shifted into one of curiosity.

“Oh.” My weight shifted from one foot to the other. “Can I know now?”

“Well…” he contemplated his answer. “I guess so. I guess, yeah. It’ll be better to give sooner rather than later.”

Give?

“Just sit on the couch, okay?” I nodded and plopped down on the couch as Mitch stood up and left the room. I glanced at his phone he placed on the cushion beside me. I snatched it up to take a peek at his progress on the game. I liked to change his character’s outfits from time to time too.

I was in the midst of putting Mitch’s avatar in a tie-dye shirt when he returned, and I looked up to see him holding a box wrapped in plain blue paper. Always Leafs colors.

“Are you changing my guy again?” He asked quickly, a smile parting his lips.

“Can’t keep him the same all the time, hun. He needs cool outfits.” I teased as I set his phone down on the coffee table.

“Yeah but I like his hat.” Mitch whined, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

“I promise I left the hat. Don’t get distracted.” I reminded swiftly, and Mitch looked down at the box before he came to sit next to me, on the edge of the couch.

“Here.” He held the box out. I quickly took it from him. “You can open it whenever.”

“You don’t have to get me things.” I informed him. Mitch and I weren’t notorious gift givers. He was more so a words of affirmation kind of guy, and acts of service. Quality time was another big one for us.

“I know, but this one was important to you.” I glanced up at him with a grin. Mitch was always so caring. I slowly tore the paper away from the box, my brain fitting pieces of the puzzle together as more of the gift was revealed to me. I felt I already knew what it was before I even had most of it unwrapped.

My heart soared after the final piece of paper was gone.

“Mitch,” my tone came out serious. “Baby, you didn’t have to do this.” I looked up at him. “I’ve been looking at these for so long. How did you even know?” The emotion was evident in my tone, complete and pure happiness.

Mitch glanced down at his hands in his lap, before his baby blues met mine.

“You remember last week? When I had that pain in my ribs?”

“And you thought you were dying?”

“Yeah.. well- I used your laptop to look it up, and I saw you had an open tab. And I know I’m not supposed to snoop.. but I was just curious. Then I saw what they were and I thought.. well I guess I just thought they’d help.” I could see his cheeks flushing as he spoke. It was always easy to tell when Mitch was embarrassed or overthinking about something. “Maybe now you don’t have to leave the house all the time when I’m loud.”

“Aww.” I set the box aside and leaned forward, resting one of my hands on his knee. “Baby this means so much to me. You have no idea.” He smiled sheepishly.

“I looked at a few other pairs too, but the internet and a lot of other people with similar struggles said that- that these were what they recommended most. The headphones are supposed to be easy on your head, and they’re supposed to fit around your ears nicely so they don’t irritate or press on them too hard.” Mitch recalled all of this information like he’d been studying it for centuries. “Oh! And it’s made out of that material you love.”

Was it possible to fall any more in love with him?

I released a soft sigh at the sight of his complete devotion and excitement. My hand squeezed his knee.

“And they’re Bluetooth. But they come with a wire too, just in case you want to plug them in.” I nodded before reaching for the box again. I set it in my lap and leaned back against the couch. Mitch did the same.

“But the wire was a normal one, so I went ahead and bought an adapter to fit your phone too.” Was there anything he didn’t think of? “And I got the headphones in your favorite color.” Nope. He’d hit every single one of the bases.

“And-“ I cut Mitch off by swiftly slotting my lips against his own. I didn’t need him to continue explaining why he bought the headphones. I appreciated them, and I didn’t disapprove of the purchase. I was happy, that’s all he needed to know. When I pulled away, Mitch finally relaxed. His shoulders dropped, his eyes looked hazy. I smiled at my accomplishment.

“You wanna try ‘em out with me?” I asked as I worked on opening the box.

“Can’t share headphones, weirdo.” Mitch teased with a soft chuckle.

“You connect your phone first, and play me a good song.” I suggested as I carefully pulled the headphones out, as well as the directions.

It took us a solid five minutes to figure out how to turn them on. Once we did, we connected the set to Mitch’s phone, and I slipped them on.

“Make sure the volume is down.” I spoke, immediately surprised by how muffled my voice sounded. Mitch opened his music app, before I reached out and grabbed his arm. He looked at me worriedly.

“This may be the only time I ever ask you to do this.. but I want you to go to the other side of the house and yell.”

Mitch raised a brow at me.

“Why?”

“Because I think these are perfect.”

A smile lit up his face. Nothing made him happier than knowing he’d done well with something.

The headphones were perfect to live normally with Mitch. Perfect to slip on when his friends came over, or when he decided to work out. Maybe even perfect enough to help block out some of the noise at his games. Granted I’d still use a suite, but they just might work.

“Are you sure?” Mitch slowly stood up.

“Loudest yell you can. Okay? I want the neighbors to hear it.”

“They’re gonna think my dog died.”

“No, they’ll just assume their crazy neighbor is acting out again.” I assured him with a playful smile. Mitch glared at me, quick to try and defend himself before I waved my hands dismissively. “Go, go!”

I watched my boyfriend quickly leave the room, and I waited patiently for the sound of his voice. It never came, but my only indication that Mitch had yelled, was Zeus’ head lifting from the floor where he laid at one point, and quickly running off. I grabbed my phone to text Mitch to come closer. We played around for a while with how close he could get before I could hear him. Once he complained about his throat hurting, I beckoned him back to the couch and let him play some music while I leaned against his side.

I held Mitch’s phone in my hands, both of us looking for different songs to play. I had pulled one of the pieces off my ear to hear him as he spoke, occasionally pointing to a song.

“So.. you like them?” He finally asked at one point. I turned my head to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“They’re perfect. Thank you so much, Mitchell.” I whispered. “You do so much for me every day, and I don’t think I ever thank you enough.” When I lifted my head to look at him, Mitch shook his head.

“You really don’t have to. I do it because I love you.” We both smiled at one another.

“I love you too, Stitch.” He snorted out a laugh at the nickname. “You wanna try them on?” He gave a shrug before I pulled the headphones off and handed them over.

“I get to pick the music though.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[appalachiananarchist]

One of my least favorite things about having a chronic illness is that I have no choice but to tell people at work about it. I am a private person and would prefer not to talk about my health problems unless necessary, but given I am a permanently immunocompromised person working in primary care, it necessary most of the time.

We just got a new manager and I had to pull her aside to say, "Hey, heads up, I will get sick a lot and here is why. I promise I am not being intentionally difficult if I call in sick or have an emergency appointment." I don't want the people I work with to know that I am sick or the degree of it, but if I don't tell them, I look lazy due to calling off more than what is typical.

Most of the time people just accept it and don't ask any more questions. I did have one guy a few years back who asked me the name of the condition, which I told him because if I didn't I would look like a liar. He then googled it and later approached me to very earnestly insist I should not be working as a doctor and that "I should have been dead years ago." He told a bunch of other people the same, which is how I ended up pulled from hospital service and only allowed to do home-based Telehealth visits during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.

He meant well. People always do. I just would rather them not know at all so I could decide what risks to take for myself. I already know I have a serious condition, that being exposed to the general public is a big risk, and that there are unencouraging life expectancy stats on the internet. I wear masks, sanitize often, and act quickly the moment I feel an illness coming on. Working as a doctor was an important choice for me and I know for a fact I have made a difference in the lives of a lot of people. I want to keep doing that for as long as I can, be that short or long (and hopefully, long!). I just don't see a future in which I give up on medicine and hide myself away as one worth living in.

[narrynukezankielover]

If you love Jared please don’t read this.

I started watching Supernatural about 4 months ago. Never wanted to watch to watch but YouTube kept recommending Misha and Jensen con interviews and Destiel videos (I’m guessing where I love Good Omens and was watching a bunch of Crowley and Aziraphale videos the site assumed I’d like almost any gay stuff) and finally I gave in. Basically I started watching because I ended up loveing Misha especially and Jensen and wanted to see if I’d love their characters. Got a bit pissed when I found out I’d have to watch 3 seasons before Cas even comes into it but I watched anyway. First of all I’m not a fan of the first 3 seasons they remind me of the first season of Gotham before they changed to arc seasons but I like season 4. I would love to know how the hell is Jared is the star of the show? I’m not saying that because I hate the guy (which I do. He’s a 2 year old in a 40ish year old body. I also HATE how he treats Misha. I don’t care if he is the star that doesn’t give him the right to physically hurt the guy. Yes Misha lot of the times laughs it off but that’s just because he’s too nice to tell him to stop. The story that Misha and Jensen told once where Jared was really irritating Misha on set and yes Jensen joined in but I think Jensen said he noticed how upset Misha was and he stopped and the next day he apologized and said that Jared doesn’t know when he’s gone too far is just insane to me. How can an adult be so childish. It’s fine to play jokes on each other but that’s going way too far.) I’m saying it because Dean seems to be more in the show and have more stories with him plus in real life Jensen seems to do more with Supernatural. It’s just my opinion but it does seem like Jensen should be the star.

As someone who is watching these eps for the first time I can tell you there is a lot of Destiel in just the first few Cas eps. I’ve read that the first time they looked at each other with heart eyes was in the first 4 eps so I had to look for myself. The first time I noticed they looked at each other with softened eyes (wouldn’t really call it heart eyes) is the scene in the park on the benches. Then the ep Heaven And Hell is full of Destiel stuff. Sam was ready to kill all the angels he asked if the was anything that could kill angels but the look on Deans face was oh f*ck no. I’m sure he wouldn’t have a problem with killing Uriel since he doesn’t keep it a secret he hates him so obviously it’s Cas he doesn’t want to hurt. Then when the angel misses was telling Dean what it’s like being an angel and that if you don’t obey orders you get killed it’s like he understood what Cas was saying on the bench. That he’s not like the other angels and that he has questions. I think that’s when Dean started thinking about Cas differently then he did before. I found it interesting that when Uriel told Dean that Cas has a weakness and it’s that he likes Dean Dean didn’t really react. He now knows why he got out of hell. He knows Cas didn’t pick him just because he had a crush on him or anything he picked him because he was told to do it to help stop the apocalypse. The weakness part is the interesting part because you wouldn’t call someone’s friend their weakness. That’s usually when people are extremely close or family. Yet Dean didn’t react like he was disgusted or confused it was more just ok an angel likes me that’s fine. The next interesting thing is when Dean and misses kissed. Cas looked like he couldn’t handle watching it then he even turned away. I know Misha said he wasn’t playing Cas in love with Dean from the beginning it wasn’t until a little later when he realized there was something there so if that’s the case why would he react this way to Dean kissing a girl? Was it maybe Mishas actual feelings? Then at the fighting scene I love that when Dean saw that Cas couldn’t fight back he protected him. I seriously doubt Sam would’ve done that. Then at the end Cas stopped Uriel from attacking Dean. Cas has been in only a few eps and yet Cas and Dean are already protecting each other. I find that so cute. Then the little eye stare at the end was amazing.

Lastly from almost the start of the show they make gay comments about Dean. Normally it is about Dean and Sam which is absolutely disgusting considering they’re brothers but I noticed Sam just corrects the person then moves on but not Dean he keeps questioning why the person thought he was gay. He then goes and flirts with guys. Why do the writers keep putting Dean in those situations and not Sam. Obviously Dean is bi.

[hms-no-fun]

Currently struggling a lot with getting very excited about a project, writing a lot, editing that writing until it's way more polished than what I can come up with off the cuff, and then being too intimidated to add to the document anymore since the previous good writing still gives off this looming intimidation if that makes sense? The more I write the greater the fear is I'll crash the story into a ditch that reveals the premise can't work. have you had that "its not all coming together shit theres a snag thats really important that i missed" moment? I realize it's pretty inevitable for that to happen, but whenever I write myself out of a moment like that I always second guess that I'm still overlooking something important or taking the easy way out. I know it's probably just all about pushing through but I worry that by pushing im just further diluting the original spirit of the project? Sorry for the all over the place ask, hope you have a good day :3

this is always a tough situation to navigate as a writer. happens to me often, and it has taken me a very long time to come even remotely close to being able to deal with it productively. believe it or not, i actually have quite a lot to say about this, so prepare for that below the break.

first of all, no, it's absolutely NOT all about pushing through. i find "pushing through" can just as often make the problem worse. keep in mind that i can only speak to my own experience and process, so any advice i might give here should only be taken insofar as you personally find it useful.

this is a form of writer's block. there are many different types of blocks, each with their own causes and hypothetical treatments. a big part of becoming A Writer as such is learning the difference between them, and developing methods for dealing with them on a case by case basis that don't involve substance abuse. don't do cocaine. that's step one.

most of my blocks are in the vein you describe. i'll be writing a scene that feels good, until i cross a threshold somewhere and suddenly the whole thing feels dead in the water. the first thing i do when this happens is stop writing. it's hard to stop when you're on a roll, i know. life is short and it's hard enough to write even on a good day, but sometimes you can just tell that you're on the wrong track and at that point you're probably not gonna be able to write your way back on.

once stopped, i check the basics. have i eaten recently? am i hydrated? have i taken my medications? these are rarely my problem (i keep a big water bottle with me at all times and my gf makes sure i'm fed), though you never know how useful a snack break can be. most of the time if the problem isn't with the text, it's that i've been writing for too fucking long and i need to clock out. learning to clock out is SO hard. but as i've been getting into the habit these last couple months, while i generally write less per day i ultimately end up writing more over time. i can feel my brain cooking when i've been writing too long. it's a muscle like anything else. if you did a bunch of overtime shifts at a more physical job, you'd need time to recover too. your body isn't a machine, your brain isn't a computer, and living things are inconsistent. it sucks but you'll have a better time all around when you learn to work with your body instead of against it.

another question is, have i showered recently? i find showers tedious and boring. also i still have depression even though my life is a lot better than it used to be. i lived on my own for a very long time as a deeply closeted self-hating trans woman, so my hygiene habits are not always up to sniff. as much as i hate to admit it, showers help. i can't tell you how many times i've sat at a godfeels chapter or video script and just felt fucking miserable, only to come back forty minutes later from a shower, full of creative energy. i despise self-help shit. just not a fan of the culture of positive attitude wellness check stuff because you can't self examine your way out of your class position. sometimes the problem is that you're broke. sometimes life fucking sucks and you just don't have the art in you, and that's okay. there's a common misconception that if something bad happens to you, at least you can make an art to get through it. but in my experience it's actually a lot harder to make art about bad times when you're still in them. most of the time it takes months if not years of safety and recovery before you can really face it head on artistically. so like, be nice to yourself. it's not your fault that you live in a society.

but also sometimes literally you just need a shower or to eat some leftovers or to go to fucking bed. i hate it every time that is true because i want my problems to be real and philosophical and not just some dumb body thing that happens to everyone. alas, no one can escape the quotidian obligations of simple mortality.

THAT SAID! this stuff isn't usually my problem, and often i find that what's solving the problem when i do step away to eat/drink/shower isn't even the specific activity, but the act of stepping away at all. getting my mind off it for a sec. when i hit a block that doesn't feel completely insurmountable, i like to back away from my computer and pace around a bit. then i'll stare at my big whiteboard with a marker in hand and just let my mind wander. i don't even write anything half the time! but the mere act of trying to compartmentalize the problem into something brief enough for shorthand helps me spot the pain points.

one of my favorite books is Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which despite what you might assume from its title is NOT a self-help book but instead a work of philosophy from 1974 taking the form of a travelogue. what Robert Pirsig explores in this book is what he calls the Metaphysics of Quality. basically he's trying to understand the split-second judgments we make of things we like and things we don't. i absolutely do not have time to go into the specifics, just know that his Quality refers to the abstract certainty you have when something is Good or Right or Correct or Qualitatively True. like how you pull your hand away unconsciously when you touch a hot stove, but for ideas. you just Know.

a scene that really sticks with me from that book (probably the most famous scene) is when Pirsig describes needing to fix a mechanical problem with his motorcycle only to be stopped dead in his tracks by a stripped screw keeping him from removing the engine cover. he talks about being so focused on the obvious solution to the primary complex problem that, on encountering a smaller, simpler problem that has to be dealt with first, he finds himself completely stuck, calling this "a zero of consciousness." it's a problem so annoying and minuscule and stubbornly unsolvable that you just want to hit the thing with a wrench and throw it in a river. addressing this new problem, this block, requires an adjustment in thinking. and here i'm going to quote a pretty lengthy passage, but don't worry, i'm typing it out by hand with the book in front of me so there's no time saved on my end:

Consider, for a change, that this is a moment to be not feared but cultivated. If your mind is truly, profoundly stuck, then you may be much better off than when it was loaded with ideas. The solution to the problem often at first seems unimportant or undesirable, but the state of stuckness allows it, in time, to assume its true importance. It seemed small because your previous rigid evaluation which led to the stuckness made it small. But now consider the fact that no matter how hard you try to hang on to it, this stuckness is bound to disappear. Your mind will naturally and freely move toward a solution. Unless you are a real master at staying stuck you can't prevent this. The fear of stuckness is needless because the longer you stay stuck the more you see the Quality-reality that gets you unstuck every time. What's really been getting you stuck is the running from the stuckness [. . .] Stuckness shouldn't be avoided. It's the psychic predecessor of all real understanding. An egoless acceptance of stuckness is a key to an understanding of all Quality, in mechanical work as in other endeavors. It's this understanding of Quality as revealed by stuckness which so often makes self-taught mechanics so superior to institute-trained men who have learned how to handle everything except a new situation. Normally screws are so cheap and small and simple you think of them as unimportant. But now, as your Quality awareness becomes stronger, you realize that this one, individual, particular screw is neither cheap nor small nor unimportant. Right now this screw is worth exactly the selling price of the whole motorcycle, because the motorcycle is actually valueless until you get the screw out. With this re-evaluation of the screw comes a willingness to expand your knowledge of it. [. . .] What your actual solution is is unimportant as long as it has Quality. Thoughts about the screw as combined rigidness and adhesiveness and about its special helical interlock might lead naturally to solutions of impaction and use of solvents. That is one kind of Quality track. Another track may be to go to the library and look through a catalog of mechanic's tools, in which you might come across a screw extractor that would do the job. Or to call a friend who knows something about mechanical work. Or just to drill the screw out, or just burn it out with a torch. Or you might just, as a result of your meditative attention to the screw, come up with some new way of extracting it that has never been thought of before that beats all the rest and is patentable and makes you a millionaire five years from now. There's no predicting what's on that Quality track. The solutions all are simple-- after you have arrived at them. But they're simple only when you know already what they are.

this is, in brief, my entire creative philosophy when it comes to writer's block. i share such a lengthy passage because i think it's useful to underline that we're not talking about a problem that is necessarily unique to the labor of writing. this process is a human process. it's just that with writing, the nature of the block itself is often much more difficult to identify than a stripped screw.

there's a couple things i do to try to identify what's got me stuck. a lot of times what happens is that everything in a scene felt good until it didn't, and then everything after that moment fell flat. so i'll go back and read the whole thing and just try to feel the scene. is everyone in character? is their dialogue too quippy, or too aggressive, too expository? are we in the midst of a conversation that has simply gone on way too fucking long? i know it can be torturous to reread your own stuff but idk what else to say except get used to it. especially when you're still early in the drafting phase! like if you know you're not gonna release this thing imminently, there's no reason to be precious about the stuff that's good or to beat yourself up over the stuff that's bad. i know that compulsion to try to Get Everything Right The First Time is strong, but it's completely unsustainable.

sometimes the block is that i just don't feel like writing narration. i've always sucked at grounding a scene with descriptions of the place. lately i'm trying to get away from relying solely on descriptions of staging/blocking, but it's hard for a bitch like me who mostly prefers writing dialogue. i've gotten a lot more comfortable with putting notes between dialogue exchanges like [character moves, looks at picture, has a dramatic thought, other character fiddles with object]. it can feel like cheating sometimes but it's not. there's no such thing. no one will know the route you took to get to the end. they will only see what you show them, when you decide to show it to them.

sometimes the block is in some minor or major betrayal of the story's spirit. the (Terezi) & Jade scene i talked about in this ask is a good example. i hit a point where nothing was working anymore. no one would talk to me. the light was gone. i can always tell when i made the wrong choice. it's such a particular sensation. as though i'm walking and i realize i no longer recognize the road i'm on and must've made a wrong turn somewhere. the solution to this particular block is introspection, retracing my steps, because the wrong turn isn't always obvious. maybe it's that someone in the scene is being too mean, or that i've failed to accomplish what the scene exists to do in some way, or that someone's made an uncharacteristic choice that now everyone in the scene is arguing about and it's like, man, this is taking too long, i'm not enjoying this anymore.

another example from A1 is the second half of the solo. i'd had most of the jasprose scene, the karkat-calliope-roxy scenes, and the vrisrezi-jade scenes written since i posted the A1 chorus. where i ran into trouble was that i needed to get jane, jake, and (terezi) to show up. my original plan was to have them arrive one by one, thus allowing their individual dramas a moment in the spotlight before being subsumed into the group. not a bad idea in theory but in practice it was fucking tedious. here we have a bunch of characters already immersed in the scene captured by the intrigue of Jade being enigmatic, and then some unawares jagoff wanders in and suddenly everyone has to stop what they're doing and be like "hey hello how are you what's up" and then they explain how they got there and then they ask what's up and it's such a DRAG. honestly i would say the majority of my creative blocks by volume are moments when the story really wants me to just cut to black for a smoke break and come back when somebody gets mad enough to throw a punch. i mean that's the the development of A1 in a nutshell. originally everyone was gonna start the track locked up in space-jail on the hopebringer, jade would show up all apologetic and say what she expects padua's deliberation to be, then the whole cast would see her throw a fit over a decision she knew was coming, they'd all be absolved of guilt and let free, then they'd all argue about who's staying or going with Jade in the morning, they'd split up to go pack their stuff and then...

well that was exactly the problem. i wanted to get all the pertinent things out of the way. jade's code switching, voidthought, some EWL teases. give the whole cast a chance to react to it. i thought that would be expedient, because it got the Plot out of the way and gave time to characters for Feelings. if that version of the scene had come at the end of chapter 8, it might have worked. but i realized that as soon as jade's audience was no longer captive, i had no fucking clue what to do with them anymore. we already knew who would go with jade, so acting like that's some kind of mystery is just lame. i started writing A1 from a place of desiring informational density & a quick pace, because we've got places to go and things to do. but if the real purpose of A1 is to explore why these characters choose to go with Jade, then that needed to be done with a lot more care and precision. that's when i decided to let Jade spend two days underground making the earth right again, so that she has to come to everyone individually rather than the other way around. and it muddies her motivations, if you don't mind the pun. it puts her at an appropriate remove from the others. i ultimately wound up conveying all the same information as in the original version, but i did it in a way that was more appropriate thematically and artistically. it wound up being longer road than i anticipated, but this is a long story and in this case the longer road was better for the journey.

take the chapter where Jade visits Roxy. i needed some time with Roxy alone to set the scene, since she's the first person Jade decides to visit and i like writing about the insides of trailer homes. i wanted to get some politics from Jane in this chapter, so hey, why not throw in a televised speech? oh, and then i can have some tucker carlson types remind us that Earth C is a fucking mess. i wrote all that, and it was good, but it was just Roxy watching tv. i tried to get into Jade's arrival and couldn't. so i went back and realized, oh, Roxy should be yelling at the tv the whole time! now we get Jane's politics, Roxy's reactions to those politics, as well as bits and pieces of context re: Jane's relationships with Karkat and Roxy. now when Jade arrives, we can play with the question of whether she heard the speech from outside Roxy's door, and why neither of them was physically at the speech in the first place. there's tension and imbalance in Roxy's state of mind when Jade does arrive, so we're more inside her perspective than we usually are, which in turn helps us identify with her when Jade starts infodumping about antimemes.

so often for me, working through a block is a matter of doing a better job utilizing what's available to you. going back to the A1 solo and trying to bring Jake, Jane, and (Terezi) into the scene. i finally returned to it after a couple months of being sick and dealing with life problems. i was frustrated because i'd hoped to be several tracks in to 3.2 by now, and instead i was confronted with just how much more of this thing is left and how long that might take if i couldn't pick up the pace. this thing NEEDED to get done.

and then i remembered that Jasprose is literally right there.

and that was it! problem fucking solved! i had jasprose drop all three of them into the scene completely unceremoniously using manic teleportation through a fenestrated plane, and from there the entire rest of the chapter erupted out of me in a single go. it's such an obvious solution to the problem that you as reader probably assumed it was the plan from the very beginning. but it's like Pirsig says: the solutions all are obvious-- after you've arrived at them.

then there's the problem of overwriting. i actually did i think four different versions of the opening to the A1 solo. the first person narration was a late addition. i tweaked that scene so so so many times. it kept feeling close but not quite. when i did the thing where i reread to find where the block happened, instead of actually reading the thing i just kept finding spots where i could write more. i can extend this anecdote. this line could be better. maybe a comma here would work better than an ellipsis...

this can be good because sometimes what's blocking you is that you skipped over something that needed more time. maybe some information or a dramatic emphasis that gives the stuff you can't yet write the momentum it needs to get going again. but i've gotta be real careful doing this, because i can do it forever. and then, as you describe (hey look, i'm actually talking about your specific problem now!), that hyper-polished section sets everything else up to fail by comparison.

i think the trick is knowing the difference between when a scene needs an editing pass vs when a scene just straight up isn't working. when it's not working, sometimes you do just have to throw it all out and start over. but if it's good enough that you feel like all it's missing is better dialogue and some more description, then you can hold off on that polish until the rest of the thing is done. this conundrum is most common at the beginning of a chapter or story in my experience, precisely as a result of the process i've been describing this whole time. when you hit a block and retrace your steps, you can always find things to fix. so it's sort of natural that any given chapter becomes less polished the further along you get in to it. that's why it's so important to understand the differences between all these different types of blocks, and to remind yourself that literally nothing you've written is finished until the moment you've made it public.

a big part of getting the A1 solo out the door was me swallowing my desire for perfection in every exchange and saying, no, this is good enough. it's not 100% what i want, but it's close enough that it just isn't worth the effort it would take to get there. sometimes there are scenes that are worth that effort, but they are always rarer than you think and they're never the ones you'd expect. i will freely admit that there are a lot of characters expositing their motivations in this chapter. i tried to embed as much of that in humor or drama as i could, but sometimes you just have to shrug your shoulders and walk away and hope your readers will be nice to you.

of course the funny thing is, once i finished the chapter and had all the panels sketched out and wiped my hands clean of the whole affair, janet needed two weeks to make the images. so i ended up having time to polish up a couple of those things that i felt were lacking after all. but those additions were radically small and intuitive, because i'd divorced myself from the raw production and had committed to so many directions that i *couldn't* change much. i'm so used to writing for release that i don't know what to do with myself when my part of the job is done before i can kick it out the door. i've come to find that waiting, taking breaks, walking away and coming back, do wonders for your ability to egolessly examine your work and identify what's wrong. sometimes you just need a day or two to sleep on it.

and sometimes you realize that you've really just over-written a scene, out of preciousness or insecurity or whatever else, and the result is so much bigger than everything else you want to do that it's more expedient to just scrap it. i hate when this happens, man. i did this with an early version of the A1 chorus, when Jade is stuck in space alone and shouting about how unfair her life has been. you know sometimes there's an emotion in a scene that's addictive. some bit of pathos that you just feel down to your bones, fuck me man, this is so GOOD, this is so JUICY, this shit has QUALITY. it's so good you don't want it to be finished. so you keep writing it, and writing it, and you rewrite it, and you add to it, because you really want to squeeze every drop of emotion you can from the thing. and then you wind up with a bloated melodramatic mess that's so overplayed you've annihilated everything that compelled you to write it in the first place.

i want to be clear that this isn't wasted work. nothing you ever put to the page, no matter how ultimately useless it might prove to be, is wasted work. the way i see this whole process, top to bottom, is that there's this thing. i don't know what it is, but it's there. maybe it starts with an image, or a line of dialogue, or a relationship, or a natural vista, whatever. it can be anything. what matters is it's a sign pointing you in a direction. it's something that has Quality that you can feel with such potent immediacy that you have no choice but to write it. the act of writing is something of an expedition, because the real magic of it comes when those disparate signs start colliding with one another. an image becomes a scene, a house, a world, a universe. sometimes these signs lead to dead ends, but with experience you learn to tell the dead ends from the rough patches. you learn how to make your own way. you do this by listening to what this thing is telling you. every story i've ever written has known better than me what it wants. i can impose so much onto it, i control 90% of the process at least. but that other 10% cannot, should not be quantified or controlled but simply understood. if you try to bottle the flame, you'll just end up snuffing it out.

no artist really knows why they do what they do or how they're able to pull it off. they can tell you their methods, their process, their coping mechanisms, they can write ludicrously lengthy diatribes on tumblr in response to an innocuous ask, but you can't pin down the soul of the thing. Quality is ephemeral, because it's first. it happens before you've had time to think, like putting your hand on a hot stove. you just know. and you have to trust that knowledge to carry you forward, not second guess it too much, not try to wrangle the thing into a shape it doesn't want to assume. sometimes this requires writing scenes that you don't love, because it's easier to build a messy bridge between the moments that drive you than it is to perfect every single moment out of an artificial commitment to like, Being A Good Writer or whatever.

a lot of this is just practice. you get better at communicating with your creative impulses. but also i think it helps to internalize that nobody sees the rough drafts, nobody sees the duct tape. and nobody knows the perfect vision you'll be convinced you failed to meet. nobody has ever made a perfect thing, and no one ever will. who wants to be perfect, anyway? godfeels wouldn't be what it is if i wasn't willing to let it be messy. if i'd tried to do it better, it never would have gotten done, and nothing i'm doing now would have even conceptually gotten to exist.

also, it's okay to abandon shit when it stops feeling good. i have so many unfinished books kicking around from my 20s, dude. i feel bad about some of them, but ten years not finishing books is still ten years spent writing. it's actually quite rare for good ideas to result in finished works, because good ideas are cheap and they're not all for you. but you gotta keep trying anyway because sooner or later you'll catch a spark that has real gas, and if you've done the work you'll be ready for it. it'll feel like destiny. it'll feel like magic, how matched that idea is to your skill level. but it won't be magic, it'll be skill. if you hadn't put the work in to know how to follow that intuition, it'd be just as dead an end as everything else you never finished. you do the work so that when you get lucky you can take advantage of it. so in that context, writing is quite low stakes. if it's not good enough, fuck it, try something else!

anyway i hope there's some decent insight buried in here somewhere. thanks for such a good question!