#they'll come when I finish them and that's as accurate as I'll be

[decarbry]

Yabureme 1-1

[amethystina]

A health update (and a general explanation of my long Covid)

So while I've been pretty open about living with long Covid, I realise I've never taken the time to explain what that actually means for me and my quality of living. It's a phrase I toss around but I can imagine it doesn't feel all that substantial to a lot of you.

So I figured that now that I'm feeling a bit better (more on that later) I should do so. Partly because I figure it will make it easier to understand why I sometimes have to disappear for weeks on end.

So, if you're interested, feel free to keep reading under the cut :)

But be warned: It's long and kind of whiny. But also ends on a high note! So there's that.

The first time I caught Covid was around Easter 2020, long before there were any vaccines, which meant that I was hit hard. But no matter how bad I felt during the illness itself, the aftermath has been ten times worse. I've been living with my long Covid symptoms ever since, so for four years now. They worsened for a couple of months when I caught Covid a second time in February 2021, but have otherwise held pretty steady during those four years.

A lot of people experience different symptoms with their long Covid and, sometimes, they'll change as the weeks and months go by. I actually had a very interesting couple of months during 2022 when my sense of smell just went completely whack and everything suddenly smelled differently than it should. Like, I could be smelling an apple but it did not smell like an apple. It was a weird time in my life.

Anyway. My most common symptoms are fatigue, fevers, joint pain, brain fog, memory issues, incoherent speech, and lowered blood circulation.

(The latter actually kickstarted the Raynaud's syndrome I have on my mother's side so now I struggle with fingers and feet that will occasionally go white, bloodless, and completely numb at random intervals. Fun times)

The fatigue and fevers are the worst by far. For the past four years, I have had exhaustion fevers between two to five times a week. Or every single day if I'm unlucky. It's very much tied to how much sleep I'm getting, how well I'm eating, and how many taxing things I do each day. I need eight hours of sleep to be functional and anything less than that will most likely mean I'll end up having a fever before the day is over.

Unfortunately, I've always had issues with my sleep so, on most nights, I don't get eight hours even if I try my absolute best. Sometimes it's because I wake up too early and can't fall back asleep and, sometimes — because my life sucks — it's because my fever is so high that I can't fall asleep. Cue the endless cycle of too little sleep and fevers.

Because one of the main issues with these exhaustion fevers — and what makes them so difficult to manage — is that there's no way to lower them. Medicine has no effect whatsoever. Once I have it, I just have to suffer through however many hours are left until I can sleep and hope that it'll be gone in the morning. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.

And every day my energy level gets just a little bit lower and the fever a little bit higher. Some days, all I can do when I get home from work is to lie on the couch and stare at the wall because I'm too tired and in too much pain to even watch something. And, again, no amount of medicine helps.

It continues on like this for a while and, every third or fourth month or so, the strain eventually becomes too much and I fall ill. My body simply shuts down from the continued stress and exhaustion, to the point where I can barely get out of bed. And, usually, I can feel it coming. On top of the fevers, I start coughing, then get a headache, and then my nose gets stuffy. And, by that time, I know I have about two to four days before I get sick. It's so accurate that my coworkers have learned that when I give the sign, they have to tell me whatever tasks they need to be finished within the near future since I'll probably be out of commission for one to two weeks.

But I eventually recover, go back to work, and so the cycle starts again. And again. And again. And again.

For four years.

All of this has, unsurprisingly, affected my quality of life to a pretty significant degree. I can barely work, let alone spend time doing any of my hobbies. I can't really travel anymore and, if I do, I'll get sick from the exhaustion. Even the 50-minute commute to the office (which I have to do three times a week) usually results in a fever before the day is over.

This inability to travel was how I ended up missing my maternal granddad's funeral. My shitty relatives didn't tell us the date for when he would be buried until there were only two days left and even if I could have put myself on an overnight train to get there, I knew I would be in no shape to actually be at the funeral if I did. So I couldn't go.

I did go to sit with my paternal grandmother as she was dying but, as expected, I got sick and couldn't return to work for a couple of days afterwards.

I also have to skip most birthday celebrations and any events happening on weekdays since I'm usually too feverish or won't manage the required trip to get there. My life has shrunk so much I barely recognise it anymore. I don't recognise myself. I used to be one of those people who could do a million things at the same time and somehow complete all of them. I was firm, organised, and efficient.

And now I'm not.

(... or, well, technically I am — at least compared to many others — but not compared to how I used to be xD)

Point being, a lot of things have changed and I don't like it. But, with that said, I'm also well aware that I'm lucky to be alive and I'm fortunate enough to have a stable job and a roof over my head. So, all things considered, I'm still doing pretty well.

But I also can't lie and say that this hasn't affected me in a deep and fundamental way. My life has changed and, right now, I don't know if it'll ever return to what I used to consider normal. And dealing with that knowledge — and the grief and fear that comes with it — hasn't been easy. I have cried ugly, self-pitying tears over this many, many times. It's frustrating to have no control over what my body does and to constantly have to be careful of what I do so I don't exhaust myself. I am furious that this happened to me.

But, after four years, there's also a certain amount of acceptance. And while I'm annoyed by my new limitations, I try my best not to feel too sorry for myself. Instead, I try to adapt as best I can, even if I might not always do it gracefully.

That does mean that I sometimes push myself more than I should, though. Because, if I didn't, I wouldn't never produce anything. As depressing as it is to admit, everything I've given you in the past four years has been while I was sick. I don't think a single chapter I've written or drawing I've made has been untouched by this. I've become an expert at writing, editing, and drawing even with a fever.

That doesn't mean I regret it, though — quite the opposite. I think that if I hadn't had a reason to write and draw, I would have felt even worse. A lof of the time, the excitement I feel when I'm able to post a chapter or show off a drawing I've made has been the highlight of my week. It's an accomplishment.

But, that said, it's still hard. Writing in particular. It requires a level of brainpower I can't reach when the fevers are too bad. And so, sometimes, I just can't. I literally just can't.

And, back in January, as I was trying to edit chapter 39 of Who Holds the Devil, I honestly pushed myself too hard. I was so determined to finish it that I didn't let myself see just how bad I was feeling — not at all helped by how emotionally draining the content of the chapter was.

It was only once I finished the chapter and posted it that I realised how absolutely wretched I felt. Not because of the chapter itself, but my lack of compassion for myself, I guess? Because the fevers were bad, I was barely sleeping, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted. And, what was worse, I realised that I was displaying depression symptoms I hadn't seen in over ten years.

All of a sudden, I got annoyed as soon as a minor inconvenience appeared. Everything people said to me was dissected into its tiniest component. I feared that people were secretly hating me. I couldn't meet people's eyes anymore when I was talking to them. I didn't realise I was just sitting there, staring at a wall, until several minutes had already passed.

And, as the final nail in the coffin, I stopped talking about how I was feeling.

And that, right there, is my last warning that I need to do something — always has been, ever since I was a teenager. When I clam up completely, refusing to admit to the people around me that I'm feeling bad, that's when I'm about to spiral.

So, the very next day, I went to my boss and told her that I'm getting burnt out and I need to do something NOW or this was going to turn ugly real soon. Thankfully, my boss is amazing and, after a doctor's visit, I was put on partial sick leave. Right now, I'm working six hours a day instead of eight and, let me tell you, I'm thriving.

Or, well, as much as I can while still having long Covid.

I'm almost angry at how much better I feel because, if I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner. I actually have energy now! I've only had a fever about four times in a little over a month! That's insane! It used to be four a week!

So yeah. I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. The downside is that the partial sick leave is still only temporary and there are no guarantees that I'll be able to keep it. Though, if need be, I'll just have to ask my boss to rewrite my contract and change the amount of hours I work because, man, I don't ever want to go back considering how much better and happier I feel. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I feel like I've gotten my life back. It's not quite the same as before, but close enough to it that I kind of want to cry again — but happy tears this time.

And so I've spent the past couple of weeks just... living? When, before that, it felt like I was merely existing. I've been drawing a lot since that helps with the depression symptoms (which are almost completely gone, thank god) but writing has been harder. Possibly because I forced myself to do it during a time when I felt really, really bad and now I'm instinctively trying to shy away from it. But, since I know that's just my mind playing tricks on me, I'm going to give it another try this weekend. I want to write and I miss the stories I'm working on. And, hopefully, since I'm feeling a bit better, I can maybe get back to a more structured uploading schedule. But we'll see. As always, I can't make any promises.

But that's about it, I guess? I'm feeling better and, since I am, I've been doing a lot of things that I wasn't able to before (like taking walks — I take a lot of walks). And I'm still trying to figure out my new routine now that I work less. And while I still get sick sometimes (I am right now, in fact, due to lack of sleep on Tuesday night) I always find my way back eventually.

So yeah. If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience 💜 I admit that I don't really enjoy writing things like these since it feels like I'm whining — I was very much raised not to take up space or complain when things are difficult (an unfortunate side effect to being the middle child with two disabled, high-maintenance siblings) — but I also prefer honesty and transparency. And I feel a little guilty since there are times when I've given pretty harsh responses when people question why I'm sick all the time or why I don't upload chapters as often as I used to, but without actually explaining why. So I guess it's time to be honest?

And the truth is that I've been constantly sick for the past four years. Not only due to my long Covid, but also the emotional and psychological toll of all the loss, grief, and pain I've been through. These past four years have been rough.

But I'm not saying that to gain pity or make excuses. I actually think I've done pretty well considering just how hindered I've been. I've improved my drawings so much and have written... god knows how many words. I'm honestly kind of scared to check xD But it has to be over 600k by now, maybe closer to 700k.

I think my only regret is that I haven't been able to engage with you all to the extent I would want. I wish I could be a more active and enthusiastic participant in fandom — to seek you out, hold conversations, and give you all even a fraction of the attention you've given me. I feel like I don't offer you nearly enough.

But I also know that I have to accept my own limitations. So, for now, we'll have to settle for whatever I can give, even if it's less than I would want. But I will keep on creating, trust me on that, because I'm stubborn as fuck and even if my pace is slower, I'm still determined to finish what I start.

And that's the note I want to end this on. I have suffered, yes — more so than I may have expressed to you all — but I've still managed to create some beautiful things. And while I mourn who I used to be and the fact that some of you have never known me at my best, I don't think the me I am right now is all that terrible. Do I want things to change? Yes, definitely. But do I want to change the choices I've made and the things I've accomplished in the past four years? No, I can't say that I do. I'm proud of what I've done, especially considering my limitations.

And, if you're reading this, thank you so, so much for your kindness, compassion, and support. Some of you are old friends while others of you are new, but I am grateful to every single one of you. You have made these past four years more bearable. You have made it easier to keep fighting. You have made it worth it.

Thank you 💜

[cheesy09]

[CN] Kiro's 6th Anniversary Event Story - Final Part (1)

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for content that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

Originally, I hadn't planned on translating this event, but I'm making an exception for this part because it was just TOO CUTE!!! 😭💕

For context, this year's anniversary event is all about travelling to various spots in Loveland with your love and taking part in various couple activities. You can read the prologue here.

The following is the event's final plot for Kiro and MC.

Even though it is winter, due to the unique conditions of Clear-Spring Mountain, flowers still continue to bloom all over the mountains and plains.

Opening the convertible of the retro sports car, we drive towards the mountains, all the while enjoying the beautiful scenery.

I have made a reservation in advance at the Honey Farm located in a sea of flowers in the mountains. Many blogger couples have commented that the activities at this place are very sweet.

Kiro: The first step is to beat the eggs... separate the egg whites... then add the sugar... granulated sugar? lumps of sugar?

Seeing Kiro casually talk while driving, I smile and gently squeeze his shoulder.

MC: Pfft, if the baking teacher comes to know that there are students who have prepped in advance, they'll be very touched.

Kiro: Don't make fun of me. If the summer island kitchen bombing incident happens again, I really will go into a tree hole on the farm.

MC: Don't worry, with me here, our cake will only succeed, not fail.

MC: After all, we both want to draw a perfect end to our journey here~

Seems like my comfort is somewhat effective. Kiro smiles and squeezes my palm, then slightly speeds up the accelerator.

Kiro: Then I'll also study hard. So that when you want to eat cake in the future, I can make it for you with my own hands.

-

Teacher: Welcome both of you, to our sweet couple activities...

Teacher: ...We first need to beat the egg mixture with sugar into a thick, fluffy foam. Next...

After the teacher explains the steps to make the cake, it is our turn to practice them.

Kiro: Come, let me try it.

Kiro takes the egg beater from my hand and beats it carefully. Seeing the egg liquid beginning to turn white, I quickly speak in affirmation.

MC: That's right - stop!

Before I can finish speaking, I see him dig out a big spoonful of sugar and pouring it into the container. I quickly hold down his arm.

MC: Sugar was added before, no need to add more!

Kiro: Is it enough? But the amount that was added before seemed so small. Will it be sweet enough?

That extremely serious gaze makes me clearly realize at this moment why this person is known as a "kitchen killer".

Recipe books and instructional videos tell us the most accurate steps, sometimes even down to the grams.

But for a "feeler" like Kiro, instead of telling him what is right, it is better to let him adjust step by step based on his own feelings.

So, I gently let go of my hand.

MC: Hmm... Actually, I'm not sure if the previous proportion is the sweetness we prefer.

MC: So just follow your own ideas. If it's too sweet, we can just add less sugar next time~

Kiro: Mm, I think so too. We still gotta make a cake that suits us best.

He grows slightly excited and digs out two more spoons of sugar and adds them in. Seeing the sugar bag almost bottoming out, I can't help but "comfort" myself in my heart.

As long as Kiro is happy.

Then, he continues completing the honey cake embryos one after another under my "guidance" and then puts them in the oven.

Kiro: 160°, 40 minutes, done!

-

Once we are done, the staff takes us to a glass greenhouse to wait.

I look at the "sweet space" before me that is temporarily exclusive to us--

Lush branches, leaves and flowers sway in the wind, surrounding the entire area with spring, accompanied with bursts of fragrance.

There is a coffee table and sofa in the center of the greenhouse, and the bookshelf on the side lists various board games, providing a variety of entertainment options.

Kiro: "What do you and your significant other have in common?"

I follow the sound and turn around, finding Kiro standing in front of a wall, seemingly looking at something.

MC: What is that?

Kiro: Hmm... Two questions were asked above. It seems to be a small game to enhance feelings.

I walk over quickly and whisper another question.

MC: "What are the differences between you and your significant other?"

I pause and subconsciously look at Kiro, only to find him already gazing at me with a smile.

Kiro: Though the question seems to be simple... I'm still curious about Miss Chips' answer.

MC: That's quite the coincidence. I'm also curious about your answer.

We tacitly smile at each other, pick up the pen and paper on the table and sit down.

MC: So let's each write our own and then exchange them?

He responds with a smile and starts to write. I also unfold the white paper and think about the similarities between us.

The afternoon sun fills the table with warmth, and for a while, it becomes so quiet that I am only able to hear the scratching of the tips of our pens across the paper.

After a while, I stop writing, and the chair next to me makes a slight scraping sound.

MC: Seems like we've written everything. Let's start from the first question.

Kiro: Okay, I'll go first!

Kiro: You and I have a lot in common, the most similar thing being that we are each other's favorite people.

MC: --Pfft! Your answer is also the first common thing I wrote down~

Seeing me poking at my letter paper, Kiro's eyes show a satisfied smile.

Kiro: As expected of us.

Kiro: My next answer is that we are also the people who make each other the happiest.

MC: No matter how late the other person is working over time, we will always leave a light on in the living room.

Kiro: We both love small animals, but Cello and Apple Box are always first in our hearts.

MC: We always have a strong sense of curiosity, and any of our adventurous ideas can be achieved invariably.

The sun moves slowly, and those words spoken out finally turn into brighter smiles on our faces.

After answering the first question, I lower my eyes and look at my letter paper.

MC: Actually, we have a lot of differences, but they all seem to complement each other.

MC: Since you're a master gamer, no complex level is difficult enough to beat you.

MC: Without you there to teach me, I would have been forever stuck in one place, unable to enjoy the total fun.

I look at the person in front of me as if the past has arrived with its answer, embracing me like the bright sun.

Kiro: Then you are a master producer. No matter how complicated the set is, you can make it orderly.

MC: You always know what you want most and you never compromise.

Kiro: My Miss Chips is also very strong. Nothing can "defeat" you.

We look into each other's eyes and say those extremely sincere words.

Then, my eyes stop at the last line of the letter and I fold it with a smile.

MC: Although we have many similarities and differences, there is one thing that I'm very sure of.

MC: You have always been braver than me, and kinder than me.

MC: You always allow me to see the brightest and gentlest side of the world.

MC: Therefore, I can feel very clearly that every day, every minute and every second of these six years--

MC: Being with you has been such a fortunate and happy thing. I think the best thing that has ever happened to me in my life--

MC: Has been meeting you.

I quietly look at the person in front of me, the one who loves me the most, hoping that my sincerity can be conveyed to him a thousand times more through words.

Kiro: [inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling softly] .....

The sunlight outside the window seems to freeze in this moment, quietly falling into Kiro's blue eyes.

He stands up, walks over to me, squats down, encloses his palms on the back of my hands and smiles brightly.

Kiro: When you say that, I can't help but wonder how good I must seem in your eyes... to be worthy of your description.

MC: Then you can use all kinds of exaggerated imagination, because nothing can be as good as you are.

MC: The ordinary sunshine, and those flowers and sceneries all shine after you appear.

MC: You make me feel that this world is wonderful because you are in it.

I lower my head and gently hold his palm.

MC: So, even if this journey ends, can you continue to hold my hand like this every day from now on...?

MC: Walk with me through everything in the world, and never let go.

MC: Okay?

Before he can say anything, a "ding" sound comes from the door, which seems to indicate that the cake has been baked.

Footsteps come from outside, but right at that moment, Kiro picks me up by the waist and hides us among the lush green branches and leaves that were behind us.

The next second, he gently kisses me.

The green leaves covering the top of our heads sway gently in the wind, dancing with shadowy golden light spots.

Teacher: Guests, the cake you baked - hey, where have they gone?

The sound coming from the door has long since turned blurry. What is clear to me is his soft breathing.

For some reason, I keep feeling like I have tasted the sweetest bite even before eating the cake.

He seems to think so too as the honey-eating bear in front of me has already raised the corners of his lips.

Kiro: Before I answer your question, I don't want anyone interrupting us.

He presses close to my lips, his azure eyes more dazzling than anything else.

Kiro: But I have just told you with practical actions.

Kiro: No matter how many years pass, no matter how many sceneries and how much of happiness you will pass by with me in the future.

Kiro: The sweetest one will always be the one I give to you.

Kiro: So, look forward to it.

Part 2: Coming soon

[nothing-more-than]

✨️ A proper tour of my feeding tube!! ✨️

Putting it below a readmore link bc it'll be a little (read: very) long <3 It isn't graphic though!

The tube!! There's a little balloon in my tummy to hold the tube in, and a rubbery disc against my skin to help hold things in place. The numbers and lines on the tube are meant to tell me if my tube has slipped out/pushed further in, so I can adjust it as needed (or contact my doctor if it's a significant amount of movement). The tube isn't connected to the disc, and can move independently of it.

Then we have the tube itself, with its three chambers and ports:

The Gastric port, aka the G port, that leads to my stomach. I use this for meds crushed in water, as well as draining my stomach when I feel ill, because my tummy isn't very good at processing things I consume.

The Jejunal port, aka the J port, that leads to the beginning of my small intestines, is the one I use for my feedings. I have to flush it with water four times a day to prevent the thick formula from clogging it up.

Lastly, we have the Bal. port, aka the Balloon port. The Balloon port was just used to inflate the balloon, so I don't do anything with it. When it's time to replace my tube with a shiny new one, they'll snip the tube with a scissors, and the air will leak out of the balloon, allowing them to remove the tube.

Here we have the tube connected to the feed bag! It has a cute purple cap for the end, so I can keep my formula from leaking everywhere or getting contaminated while I stop my feedings for water flushes. I like to loop it and put it in my cute zebra print clip, to hold my tube up and shorten the length of tube I have to deal with.

The feed bag tube goes through a pump, then connects to the bag, all hung on my iv pole!

(Sorry for the shaky pic, I have pretty bad hand tremors from a medication side effect rn).

There's a screen to display my dose, rate, and how much I've consumed during my current feeding. I can just click the labelled button and it'll show me what I wanna see/adjust! It also explains whatever alarm might end up going off, such as 'NO FOOD' (when my feed bag runs out), or 'PUSH PAUSE TO START' (for when I pause a feeding and forget to continue it after I've finished whatever I was doing). Oh and it shows if it is actually running, along w how much battery life it has left! I plug it in each night after I've finished feeding for the day.

The screen does light up when it's plugged in, but I don't like dragging the cord all over the floor when I move around, so I just deal with the dim screen.

Then there's the feed bag (which will actually change now that I get pre-filled ones). The tube comes out the bottom, and at the top is a cap you can twist off to add more formula. Each bag (and tubing) is only used for one day, as it isn't sanitary enough to continue using it for more than 24 hours. The other style of bag I'll be getting can be used for 48 hours max.

Each bag can hold up to 1200ml of formula, but I only fill it half full and add the rest later, as I don't like when it's super heavy. The lines and numbers along the side show you roughly how much formula is in there, the key word here being Roughly. It's not always accurate.

BONUS: Here's my table! When I first got home, I was in so much pain I could barely move, so my bed was put in the living room, and I have a table with baskets of everything I might need. I've got headphones and gaming things, tissues, socks and headbands, my planner, and tooons of meds. I'm also borrowing my brother's grabber thing-- I use it to turn on the light behind me :3

BONUS 2: Here's a self-portrait I did shortly after I got my tube, expressing the struggle I've experienced while healing and adjusting to my new situation. It was a rough couple of weeks, but I made it through, and things are finally starting to look up now. I'm eager to start sharing the things I've learned, and what I'm still learning!

And that's it!! I hope this was interesting or helpful <3 You're welcome to ask questions about anything, either here or at my main blog @arcadian-vampire . Thank you for your time!

[aziraphalestartanunderwear]

Okay so let's think a little bit about everyone's favorite danger demon.

✨Crowley✨

He's going to be a mess in season three. An absolute mess. And we have three options and I'll rank them from least likely to most likely (in my semi-professional opinion) (I'm a creative writing major for a reason).

1) Crowley will drive off and disappear and cry alone but nothing will change and he'll just die in the second coming. This won't happen because that is not the story we want to hear and season two was very people pleasing.

2) Crowley will join the forces of Hell again. I doubt this is the option Neil will take. It would make a nice character parallel, yes, but it just doesn't seem like something Crowley would do considering he specifically said he wouldn't. But y'know he could always change due to anger and betrayal.

3) Crowley's anger and sadness will cause him to literally go to the ends of the earth and beyond to get Aziraphale back. Like literally to the point of taking a bath in holy water kind of desire. Maybe he will. That would discorporate him, yes, but there has to be something at steak and what's bigger than a character's entire existence.

But no matter what option happens...

✨Aziraphale✨

...will have a great time being the top bitch for a while. Him and Metatron—who literally looks like he would be Aziraphale's dad—will have a fantastic time. Aziraphale will try his best to forget about Crowley for a while for the sake of ✨goodness✨. But he'll have some kind of sign that will trigger his little angel noggin to be like oh crap I left him and I don't feel complete without him. He'll go to Crowley in a dire moment when everything is falling apart. It'll foil the scene in the end of season two, or at least I'd hope so because that would be excellent structure. And Crowley will have the option to either walk away from Aziraphale because he hurt him, but more likely he'll accept him back because Plot.

They're on their own side and Aziraphale just has to remember that. And something will cause him to remember that. Then they'll come back together and make everything good again. Maybe Aziraphale will even save Crowley as a nice foil. One thing for sure is that they are stronger together. That's shown in both seasons in the most literal ways (the Adam Young vs his dad scene and the beacon scene).

Neil probably doesn't even know what the finished product will be. I don't know if he's even started writing it considering the writer's strike and the fact that he could be taking a break. My predictions or... or wise and accurate prophecies... are simply just analysis of pleasing story structure,

[give-soup-please]

Hello there, Jay - been a bit I think. Honesty, not sure exactly HOW long it's been but I know it's certainly been a while.

I both have a lot to say and nothing at the same time. I had notes but I kind of lost them while moving, and then also just kind of.. lost them in my brain. What do you think about the idea of time being a soup? Because honestly I think it is. Very soup-ey indeed, slipping through the cracks and just washing away down the drain. Not that I would wash a way soup - not if it's good, and a lot of soups are good (like you!) Anyways: - I know a while ago you were in the ER, I'm glad to see you're doing a bit better, that makes me happy and less violently concerned for you like I had been. It was interesting to actually have a vague back and forth with you there, but I was pretty quiet. I usually am, anyways. - I wish I could throw a bunch of money at you to write something. As you know I absolutely adore your writing, it just soothes my soul with the way you weave your words together. Maybe I'll save up while doing some commissions of my own to do that. I hope you're getting a lot of commissions though, you deserve them. - I... have become violently obsessed with Good Omens. If I didn't have two commissions I needed to finish as well as an art project I had started I would just be drawing that. They are literally rotating around in my head constantly. I don't want to include any spoilers (I'm sure you already watched it all, but just in case anyone is scrolling through or something) I practically combusted when I saw the last ten or so minutes of that episode. Do you have any theories for that? I think you can do a ... spoiler like thing... I think. Anyways, everything is fine and it all ended well... right... RIGHT???? - The new Tumblr layout is absolute garbage and I had a mild breakdown over it while trying to figure out how everything worked. It's annoying as all get out, and I THINK there's a way to fix it? I got this link from someone when asking about it - but honestly I'm a bit lost when it comes to in depth stuff like this so I can't fix it personally: Link: https://www.tumblr.com/vellichorom/725846270328127488?source=share - I'm sure there's more I want to talk about. It's like my brain is full of a lot of things but nothing really wants to be written down... It's mostly because of Good Omens, but also other things. In any case, I hope you're doing well. And of course, as I always end these things, please take care of yourself. Do something for you, eat a little snack, DRINK WATER, and most of all continue to be you in the face of everything that goes against that. You are a wonderful person. You are important. You are amazing just the way you are. Your friend, ~ May

PS: If this comes through more than once, just ignore that... Tumblr was acting funny and I had to try it again... more than once... seriously I'm sorry if this comes through like ten times

may! great to hear from you/gen

(i was worried when i hadn't heard from you in a while, ngl. happy to hear you're doing okay.)

-the thing about time being soup is pretty funny. i've heard time being described as soupy, which is fairly accurate sometimes. and i'm glad you wouldn't wash a poor innocent soup away.

-yes, i am doing much better after my ER visit. i still have to get the labs done to work out what the heck went wrong, which i've been procrastinating. (i'll make an appointment tomorrow, i swear. or monday, if it's not open over the weekend. ugh)

-you are welcome to save up! commissions are going to be permanently open, because i'm a senior in college now and i need to make money so i can get housing after i graduate. so whenever you want, say the word. i am getting a decent amount of commissions in for the time being. a few people have said that when their next paycheck comes in, they'll talk to me, so i'm glad i'll have work in the future. but yeah anyone can come in at any time and talk to me about that, i don't mind taking on work. it fills up my days in a nice way.

-i love good omens 2, and that series finale was killer in so many ways dlkfsjdlf- i do have a few theories and thoughts, but i won't share them for the time being. i will say i don't agree with the coffee theory though. doesn't feel right given gaiman's usual style of writing.

-thank you for the link! i got it fixed ASAP so i'm not bothered anymore. i do have several thoughts on what tumblr is doing with the direction of this website though.

-i am doing well. tired, but well. my apartment is fully clean now and i can see floor again. it's been a year since it's been this good. (not an exaggeration. i have bad problems with depression nests, and i'm trying to get better.)

take care of yourself too, ok?

[cdyssey]

Some fluff ideas I’ve been wanting to do myself for work wives 🥹💓💝💘: ice skating!! (with the girls or a field trip or a date??) one of them isn’t very good, and the other is good enough to hold onto and guide and giggle at when one falls.

Or Janine invites the work fam out to a dinner on the last day to celebrate another good school year and everyone comes!! Special bonding moments and work wives come out and everyone cheers lol

One more: au where mel and barb live together happily and spend a cozy snow day at home thanks to a torrential blizzard/storm. They do all the blissful domestic things like bake/cook, watch movies, cuddle, read, dance, etc. Either the girls are smaller and they build forts/play, or they’ve grown up and moved out by then, whichever! :’)

WAH, TY for the excellent prompts! I'm posting the third one in this ask, but I'll keep the others in my prompt list just in case I want to revisit them later.

AO3 Link

CW: Alcohol Mentions

—

“Hell to the no,” Melissa’s firm voice appears over Barbara’s shoulder, and before she knows it, the gradebook that she had just discretely opened is unceremoniously plucked from her hands and replaced with a mug of hot chocolate. Because Melissa made it, it has all the works: a shot of Bailey’s, a whipped cream topping, and a delicate caramel drizzle. “You’re not working on a snow day!”

“Hey!” She pouts, craning her head to watch her wife retreat to the open kitchen again. But whatever she vaguely feels of indignation is somewhat curtailed by the sight of the other woman’s hips, the way they always swing a little hypnotically when she walks.

She bites her lower lip to stop a not-especially-innocent smile from rising to it.

“I was merely glancing!”

Taylor, kneeling next to the low coffee table alongside Gina, giggles lightly. The girls have been doing a thousand-piece wolf puzzle for the last two hours.

Well, more accurately, Gina has been doing the puzzle, and Taylor, who had just arrived from Manhattan last night, has been filling her mom and stepmother in on all the latest gossip from her job, starting with her two bosses “losing focus and having a consensual workplace relationship with each other” and continuing with her work nemesis getting on her last damn nerves.

("She never answers her emails! It's ridiculous!")

“You heard her, Mama,” she grins as Melissa brings two more mugs over for the girls. “Mel says it’s time for you to relax.”

“And whatever Mel says goes,” Gina muses, never once looking up from her puzzle, revolving a stray piece between her slender fingers.

“You got that right,” Melissa calls behind her, already sauntering away again—presumably to grab her own hot chocolate—and Barbara shakes her head at both of her daughters.

“I see my whole family is conspiring against me,” she sighs in mock defeat. “My poor kindergarteners…”

“They’re five. They'll live,” Gina quips, finally placing the piece somewhere in the middle. (It’s a part of the wolf's fur.)

“Mhmhmhm,” Melissa agrees vigorously as she circles around the sofa for what should be the final time—a steaming mug caught between her hands—and lowers herself next to Barbara, immediately and somewhat inelegantly pulling her knees up to her chest before leaning against her side. The younger woman vaguely smells like vanilla, having spent most of the morning baking cookies, and Barbara revels in it, smiles at her proximity. “Today should be a fun day. Who knows when we’ll get blizzarded in like this again?”

“Hear, hear,” Taylor says, fondly patting her mother’s crossed ankles. 

“And so what do you propose we do then, dear?” Barbara asks, arching what she intends to be a very serious brow, but the gesture immediately fails when Melissa, all but on top of Barbara, presses a light kiss against her cheek, nearly toppling them both over.

“Eh, we’ll figure it out.”

And so they do.

They spend another hour at least helping the girls finish the wolf puzzle, sipping on their boozy hot chocolate and simply chatting about everything and nothing. Taylor wants to go Christmas shopping this weekend; she still has to buy something for her dad and his now longtime girlfriend, a sweet woman named Carla. 

“Dad gives you his love,” Taylor says with remarkable ease as she sifts through the remaining puzzle pieces. The divorce had been hard on her at first—she hadn't wanted to understand that nothing had exactly happened between her parents... they'd just simply fallen out of love. But time has done a lot to heal that precise and aching wound. Just this past summer, when she took a few days off work to vacation with her and Mel on a cruise, she'd even told Barbara that she'd never seen her mother so at ease before.

It looks good on you, Mama, she'd murmured, squeezing Barbara's arm.

And I'm happy for you.

“He wanted to know if you’d maybe send him some of your fudge over."

“Of course,” she smiles warmly, overwhelmingly grateful at her daughter's casual tone, feeling a rush of affection for her ex-husband, now dear friend. He had always loved her baking, even when she was younger and not very good at it yet. “You can take a tin to him tomorrow if the weather has cleared up…”

Gina tells them about the experiments she and her team are working on at CalTech, something to do with microbial cultures; they’re researching how to more effectively identify mutated flu strains. 

“My baby girl is so smart,” Barbara effuses, reaching over and hugging her youngest around the shoulders, kissing her head, nearly knocking her horn-rimmed glasses askew. 

“Mommmmmmm,” she groans, though a grin crooks at the corner of her mouth. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“That's just what moms do, kid,” Melissa chuckles, the sound loud and lively, always filling a room.

After they finish the puzzle, they spend some time decorating the sugar cookies that Melissa baked earlier, listening to old Christmas albums on the record player. When they’re about halfway through the batch, though, some jazzy instrumental comes on, and Melissa suddenly grabs her hand, pulling her into the middle of their kitchen to dance.

“Melissa!” She laughs, color rapidly rising to her cheeks as her wife anchors two hands on her hips. “Down, girl.”

“Make me,” comes a low and saucy reply, making Barbara’s entire body twinge with delight. She laughs, and she relents, and she allows herself to be swept around the tiled floor, both of them bare footed and a little clumsy, but that’s what makes their attempts at dancing so fun. Melissa’s cheeks are rosy and soft in the golden light, her eyes twinkling beneath her long lashes, and Barbara is profoundly lost in her.

And yet, simultaneously, miraculously, she is so perfectly found.

“You think they’re going to do this all night?” She barely hears Taylor ask somewhere from the side.

“Probably,” comes Gina’s amused reply.

“God help us all.”

By the time the cookies are all decorated, it’s pretty much time for dinner. Melissa pulls the lasagna she had put on earlier from the oven, while Barbara tosses the salad, and the four of them eat together at the kitchen table. Between hefty bites of the delicious meal, the kindergarten teacher finds herself fondly staring at each member of her little family in turn—her beautiful daughters, her radiant wife. She’d never thought—in all the collected years of her existence—that it was possible to be as content as she is right now.

In this present moment. 

Having communion with the people she loves most.

And never having to feel as though she's betraying herself for it.

But she is content.

She is, she is, she so happily is, and tears suddenly well in her eyes.

She swipes at them as surreptitiously as possible, but she knows Melissa—always attentive to her—has already seen.

The younger woman places a hand on her leg beneath the table, the gesture soft, the meaning behind it implicit.

I know.

Once they’ve finished up their lasagna and cleaned up the kitchen, once they’ve all showered and gotten cozy in their pajamas, the four of them decide to wind down the night with a Christmas flick in the living room. The girls choose Elf, a childhood favorite of theirs, but not even an hour into the movie, both of them are fast asleep on the couch, Gina using her older sister’s lap as a pillow, Taylor lightly snoring.

Barbara, laughing silently, drapes a blanket over them and Melissa clicks the TV off, before together—without needing to say so much as a word—they pull their heaviest coats on and grab another thick blanket, quietly slipping out the back door and onto their glass enclosed porch. The blizzard has largely abated, though the snow is still thick on the ground, icing the world in white.

They turn the fire pit on and nestle on their favorite porch swing together, Barbara’s cozily feet tucked beneath Melissa’s thigh, the blanket wrapped around them both, and they watch sleet flurry down from the star-strewn heavens, dusting the trees like powdered sugar.

“I’m deliriously happy right now,” Barbara declares aloud, and it almost sounds like a confession of guilt on her oh-so-careful tongue. She supposes that makes sense—she has long associated her own pleasure with clear and damnable wrongdoing.

And loving Melissa Schemmenti had once been both.

Perfect happiness and unspeakable shame.

But now—the sadnesses of their past behind them, their complicated history untangled at the altar when they mutually said I do—all that is left is the joy. Sometimes, Barbara occasionally wonders if she isn't tempting fate by daring to be so whole in a world that assuredly isn't.

Mostly, though, after sixty-seven years of systematically caring too much about what other people think, she has learned to live in the present moment, in the warmth of her wife's hand laced in hers, in the simple brilliance of a star-strewn sky, in this minutiae of an eternity that God has so generously gifted her.

“Oh, yeah?” Melissa asks, her eyes bright in the gentle glow of the fire. 

Barbara smiles at her.

“Yes,” she nods. “Absolutely."

And she leans forward then to capture this infinitesimal moment—this slice of heaven—with a kiss, softly dividing the other woman’s lips with her own.

It is a silent night, perhaps even a holy one.

All is calm.

Barbara’s future is bright.

[sheliesshattered]

New sewing project

I just realized that I haven't taken any pictures of my new sewing project -- while I'm sitting here wearing the nearly finished dress, lol. That's how quickly it's come together, which is just wild after all the months I spent on the last dress I made.

I'll take some pictures in the daylight tomorrow, but I figured I'd document a little of the process now, before getting back to work and getting the sleeves on. Also there's matching pants, and those just need their waistband casing and ankle cuffs and they'll be done too.

Oh yeah, and the fabric only arrived like three days ago. xD

The motivation behind this project was to sew something for wearing around the house during the winter -- something cozy for these darker months when all I feel like wearing is long witchy dresses and cozy layers. I don't have any costuming events to plan for, and this is a dress I've really wanted the last few years, so Jack encouraged me to actually draft the pattern and get the thing made so I can start wearing it already.

The concept is a cozy winter dress in a sort of pseudo cotehardie look -- maybe more Victorian Pre-Raphaelite medievalism than anything that would work at an SCA event, but in that sort of direction. I have just enough of a wool allergy to make wearing it next to my skin completely unbearable, and since I'm not trying for historical accuracy, I can really use any fabric I want. I prefer to use only natural fibers (or synthetics made from natural fibers, like rayon and viscose) in my wardrobe whenever possible, and I knew I wanted this dress to be heavy, warm, and soft inside.

After a bunch of searching around online, I found a 100% cotton sweatshirt fleece weighing in at about 7oz per square yard. I ordered a sample of the charcoal gray color, which turned out to actually be more of a slate blue-gray, but that suited me just fine. The sample washed and dried well, and stayed soft inside without pilling, so I knew I had a winner. That just meant I had to actually draft a pattern to match what I was thinking. I pinned a bunch of things on Pinterest, all kind of revolving around this sort of look:

I thought about using a typical cotehardie pattern with triangular skirt gores, but since I knew I didn't want any sort of closures, lacings or otherwise, and because I was going to be working with a stretch knit, I decided I didn't want to try to mess with the accurate historical way of making dresses like these and just stick with a tried and true princesses seam pattern that I know fits me.

So I ended up adapting my pattern for Rhaenyra's red dress to draft this one. I kept the basic 10 panel shape, but drafted out the center front seam, and added some height to the tops of the sleeves so I can properly set them in (rather than lacing them on with some shoulder showing). I raised the neckline in the back to the nape of the neck, and rounded both the back and front necklines, rather than the V-shape of the Rhaenyra dress.

I also added a tiny amount, like 2mm, to each seam from the waist up, so that I could pull the whole thing over my head and not have to worry about a zipper. And I widened the skirts a bit from the hips down, since I'm not trying to replicate a screen-used look, and so I could have even more swish in the skirt. The wider skirts (and heavier fabric) also allowed me to put invisible pockets on the side-front seams, which the Rhaenyra dress really couldn't handle.

I also decided to draft some matching pants to wear underneath the dress, for those days when I really can't get warm. I used a pajama pants pattern that I drafted last year, widened the legs a bit so they're straight up and down, and raised the waistline a tiny bit so I can put a wider piece of elastic into it. I also drafted out the side seam pockets, since the dress itself will have pockets. I may yet go back and add welt pockets to the back of the pants, but we'll see.

The pajama pants I based the pattern on generally fit pretty well, but the only problem with them is that they're so wide at the ankle that they like to creep all the way up to my knee at the slightest provocation and leave my lower leg rather cold. Since these fleece pants will be even wider, and since the point of this is to be warm and cozy, I knew I wanted the ankle to come in nice and close. But I also didn't want to gather the lowest edge, since the fabric is so heavy.

After looking around at a bunch of pictures and patterns online, I figured what the hell, I know what I'm doing, and these are really only going to be worn under the dress (or other long skirts) anyhow, so even if they end up weird looking, who cares. With a bunch of math I drafted two extra pattern pieces that basically form a 3/4 skirt for the bottom of each pant leg, with the 'waist' of the 'skirt' around my ankle, and the circumference sewn to the end of the pant leg. The result is fluffy and round and ridiculous, but I think will suit my needs quite well.

Once I had all of my pattern pieces drafted, I laid them out on the floor at half the 64" width of the fabric, and then measured how much length I would need, rounding up a little for the ~5% shrinkage that happens when the fabric is washed. I placed my order just over a week ago, on December 9th, and it arrived -- all 6 yards and 5 pounds of it -- on this past Thursday, the 14th.

I washed and dried it on Friday, then started cutting out all the pieces (26 in total, for the dress and the pants) that afternoon. I'd also ordered cotton thread in a coordinating color, and that didn't arrive until yesterday afternoon, by which point I had most of the pieces cut out. Last night I pinned as many of the seams as I could and this morning I wound a bobbin and tested out my tension and stitch length on a scrap piece of fabric and then got straight to sewing.

To say this came together faster than the last dress would be a massive understatement, lol. The Rhaenyra dress is two layers of silk, both of which wiggled around and refused to stay on grain, frayed easily, and needed all the raw edges finished and fully enclosed. This winter fleece dress is shaped nearly identically, but the fleece fabric doesn't fray at all, doesn't slip and slide when I cut it, and generally has a pretty easy to find grainline. The only piece that gave me any trouble was the center front, since it doesn't have a straight outer edge to align with the knit, and for that one I just thread-traced straight down the canyon between two lines of knitting, and then lined up the center of the pattern piece with that, easy peasy.

So after three days of actual cutting and sewing, I am sitting here in something that is decidedly dress-shaped, and wonderfully warm and soft and cozy. I still need to attach the sleeves, tack down the pockets, and then hem the sleeve ends, neckline, and skirt hem, but I'm feeling like I might actually be able to accomplish most of that tomorrow.

For the pants I need to sew on the ankle cuffs and turn under the waist casing and add elastic, both of which should be pretty quickly done. I should be able to have both done by the middle of this week, I think, unless something major comes up, with work or otherwise. We've got a big rainstorm coming in this week, after a few warm days, and winter solstice on Thursday, so it would be lovely to actually be able to wear this by then.

My long-term plan for this dress, besides just wearing it around the house all winter long, is to make other pieces to layer over top of this, both for fashion and for function, sideless surcoats and vests and aprons and such. I might end up making a second fleece dress out of another color eventually, but even then I would want all the pieces to be interchangeable.

The look I'm going for is something I haven't seen anywhere else, but I'm thinking of it as sort of medieval cottagecore, or practical 14th century historybounding, all influenced by Pre-Raphaelite paintings and my own take on mori kei and strega fashion. Layers and long full skirts, body-skimming through the torso but not tight, practical and functional but still witchy and a bit unusual, all in natural fibers and the colors most commonly found in my closet already.

I'll take some photos of the dress in progress in the daylight tomorrow, and more pictures later in the week once it's finished. Provided I can actually talk myself into taking off the nearly-finished dress, which has been so very cozy and comfortable while I've typed up all of this, lol.

[love-toxin]

so this is dumb but one day I’m hoping to start doing writing commissions, but I don’t have an clue where to start? Do you have any advice on like, pricing for word length, or how many slots I should open to start with, etc? sorry for bother you! ;-;

not at all!! it's a good question--ill give you a longer answer down here! ⬇️

so the base rate that a lot of independent writers charge is about 1$ per 100 words, but it really depends on the quality of your writing, if you have an editor (or edit yourself) and how long it might take you to write. i would suggest practicing writing longer pieces and get a gauge on how much time it takes you to write 500, 1000, 2000, etc so you can give an accurate estimate of how long the commission will take, too. i would only open a couple slots to begin with so you don't get overwhelmed, but once you've got good time management with writing your pieces you can probably open more if you want to! and of course, you can increase or decrease the overall price based on the content--like i usually charge another dollar or two for writing someone's oc because it takes extra time for me to research them and go through their character sheets, or I'll do the same if the commissioner wants nsfw or something that's very complicated that will take more time than an average piece.

I'll also say that keeping guidelines is really important! not just for you but for your commissioners to know exactly what they're getting by coming to you. if you don't want to write certain topics or you're only comfortable with particular content, make sure you state it clearly wherever you post your commission sheet or make an entirely separate document and link it to your original post. i haven't personally done commissions in a long while because i just kept getting an influx of emails from people who wanted me to write things i was so not comfortable with, and that's happened when i have specified what i won't do, so be sure to protect yourself and don't be afraid to block people who try to cross those boundaries. or just block creeps in general bc I can't tell you how many people I've encountered who think I'll write whatever they want if they offer me enough money. obviously that's not to scare you but it's certainly something that won't hurt to prepare for if it ever does happen.

aside from that and on a lighter note, try not to stress yourself out too much over it all. figure out what you can do comfortably and adhere to that, if you make mistakes or need more time to finish a piece, just be honest with the person you're working with and 99% of the time they'll be understanding. if you don't want to write something somebody asks for then politely decline, or block their contact if they harass you or ask for something wildly inappropriate. and it doesn't hurt to ask for more details! if you need some more guidance or inspiration on a piece most commissioners will be more than happy to talk further about their idea.

i hope this helps, and i hope you have fun with it! <3

[beetrootbug]

can we just... talk about Wednesday? Because I don't know how to feel about it. I watched the show with little expectations in terms of the plot, and I personally ended up enjoying it, though many people have expressed their distain for it. i didn't like everything about it. It was a bit brain numbing i guess, since after watching it my brain was devoid of thought, which is why i was probably able to watch it without question. I usually pick stuff apart whilst i watch it, but i think I was just so determined to finish it I didn't pay as much attention. Final opinions are:

i enjoyed the cartoon-ish nature of the plot. It wasn't that serious and things were solved very quickly. As a writer, I should despise that. I adore writing books with complex plot points that are long winded and explained with care as to not info-dump but to provide the context needed. However, as a person with horrid fucking anxiety, I LOVE stupid stories with shitty easy to solve plots, such as the one present in Wednesday. It's easy to see what's coming and if an episode ends on a cliffhanger, I know for a fact that it will be solve in the next episode. I also tend to judge shows and movies in context to other shows and movies made by the same company. For example, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed Falcon and the Winter Soldier as I really didn't like the previous marvel movies and show. Of course falcon wasn't the best show in context to other pieces of media outside of marvel, but for a marvel show, it topped my standards. Wednesday is the same for me in terms of Netflix live actions reboots. I don't care what you think of the show Wednesday, you must agree it is better than the other live action reboots. I hate riverdale and i hate Winx fate saga, they are terrible, objectively and subjectively, they aren't good. Wednesday shocked me as it was better than both. This also plays into the other kind of shows that are on the rise: gritty shows with teenagers. Euphoria and the abhorrent Velma show, are disgusting inaccurate depictions of teenagers. Not to say teenagers don't do these things, it's just that it isn't presented correctly. Teens smoke, drink and fuck, we know this, I've heard shit, i've seen shit. But they do it immaturely. Teens are both children and adults. If they do adult things, they do it childishly, and vice versa. Wednesday had a relatively accurate depiction of teenagers (albeit a bit cartoony but it fits with the shows themes). So from that standpoint alone, it blew my expectations out the water.

Now to the stuff i didn't like about the show: the characters. Which is a massive part of the show of course. The characters were easier to stomach when i watched it because i simply liked the actors, but analysing the characters after, yeah, i don't like them that much. I liked Wednesday in the beginning, but towards the end, she wasn't as fun to watch. As far as what she does, she's very fun to watch and has to be the only who holds up well (kinda, i'll explain this later), the rest of the characters are kinda poorly written and become kinda unlikeable. I never thought i would say this, but I don't like Enid as much as I did when i started watching. Not from a "oh she's such a horrible person" but rather "oh, she's been written really poorly". That can be said about all the characters, including Wednesday towards the end. The messages the characters give the the audience is my main gripe with the show. Enid talks about how friends do stuff for friends, even without asking. "That's what friends do". This is stupid, it is. If your friend tells you not to do something, and you do it, you are betraying their trust. You don't know why your friend doesn't want you to do that, and they don't need to tell you, they'll tell you if they want to. You shouldn't assume things that your friend wants, especially if you don't know them well, like Wednesday's relationship with enid and the others. It's not a good message to spread as stuff like this is something autistic people and other nd people struggle with, this makes this line from enid to wednesday, a very nd/autistic coded character, much worse. A seemingly stupid request not to do something could have much deeper roots for an nd person. I got very mad at friend when she intentionally splashed me with water once. I had told her very explicitly not to splash me and explained that i hate getting wet when i'm wearing normal clothes as the texture is horrid and it would make me very cold. She continued to splash and my voice became more and more distressed. She ignored this, cuz duh, a little water never hurt anyone? But she eventually splashed me and i scolded her. I wasn't very cold nor wet, but it meant something else to me. She betrayed something i told her, and i even explained to her before hand why i didn't like it. So yeah it's stupid to most, but now i know i can't trust her with stuff like that, doesn't that seem a bit counterproductive to friendship. Wednesday was framed as a stuck up killjoy for not enjoying the birthday party she explicitly did not want, and yet i understand why. I think this is also a reason i liked this show; i liked wednesday, i related to her (kinda). She's not the Wednesday Addams character that she should be, but if you disconnect her from her roots (which you technically shouldn't since this is an adaptation) she's a fascinating character that could have had a lot more done with her.

So to end off: The plot is objectively bad, but a fun and easy watch. The characters are bad, but the main character is relatable yet lacking (which almost makes me wanna watch the next season because i want to see her expanded upon). She's fun by herself, but as a supposed wednesday addams adaptation, she falls completely flat of that title. Which is why i feel the show would have been better if it wasn't attached to wednesday. If it was just a show about ghouls going to school and the main character was an autistic coded character trying to survive among bullies while a murder mystery was being solved as a background plot, it would have been better. Think of it like a mix between monster high and gravity falls, heck it would have been nicer as a cartoon, though i did enjoy the visuals. I think wednesday should have had more conflicts with characters that actually hate her than just being a bitch to characters try to be nice. It's more forgiving in this context because wednesday is nd coded, but there has been a rise in the "everyone fucking hates me except no one hates me and everyone likes me" character archetype, like in the I am not starfire comic. It would have been nicer to see wednesday make a proper friend and in the mean time get back at actually horrible people, like bullies or bigots instead of people trying (and failing) to help her.

also TYLER AND XAIVIER SHOULD HAVE BEEN BOYFRIE-

[mr-tony-stark]

Tony smirked at Clint's comment and raised eyebrow. He wasn't exactly buying the silver fox thing. For starters, Tony's hair had barely grayed at all outside the stray hair here and there. There was another sure way to kill that particular argument anyway. "Oh really?" he teased. "You up late at night thinking about how sexy you find Reed and Strange, are you?"

There's a non-committal shrug given in reply to the question of the paparazzi. He didn't want to promise they weren't going to follow him. There was some buzz about what had happened at the bar, speculation abounding. And given it had been enough that they had followed them today, they were likely still parked out there in the hope they go out again tonight. There had been a lot of speculation about Tony's sexuality over the years, and while he never lied about it, he'd never publicly come out either. The closest he'd come was when he'd made the public statement about being off the market and addressed it to everyone. That could mean that people were already pairing them up, especially after today, but then again, the press rarely accurately guessed people were in same sex relationships. It would be a complete roll of the dice when Clint went outside.

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. It's not like you're not a celebrity. And they do seem riled up about the bar. If they do, and you're alone, I would guess they won't follow you, like they did with us. They'll just try and get you to say something or piss you off so they can sell photos of you attacking them. So just try not to bite. If they do follow you, I'd say get in a cab for a couple of blocks just to shake them so they don't follow you all the way to the meeting. Though I doubt they'll do that."

He smiles and leans in a little, putting his hand on Clint's thigh and brushing his thumb up his inner seam. He hadn't realized he'd liked honey so much. It felt strange that that was the one that he picked considering how generic it was. Tony used honey when he was talking down to reporters sometimes. He'd have to check how he used it from now on. If that was the one that Clint liked, it would be the one he only used for Clint. "Yeah? You like that one, honey?" he asked. "It's all yours."

He pressed a soft kiss to Clint's lips and brushed the back of his fingers along his jaw before sitting back again and turning his attention back to his food. He was really giddy today. He hadn't felt this level of giddy for someone for a long time. "You speaking conversational Italian would be the biggest turn on ever. You would definitely get laid in Italy." Like it was that hard for him to get laid right here and now.

Tony finishes his meal and licks the sauce from his lips. It was such a good meal. He was looking forward to that future date. He stood up and brushed his fingers through Clint's hair and kissed him. "I'll clean up. You probably should head our, right?"

@oceansfirst

@mr-tony-stark

Tony's argument made no sense with his age being younger and closer to Clint's. There was roughly a two year difference. BESIDES ⸻ ❝ And what if I found the whole older man, silver fox thing attractive? ❞ He suggests with a smug grin to his lips, arching an eyebrow.

Like Tony would be called a cradle snatcher when it came to dating Clint so had his own set of wrinkles; unless they were calling him too young for the fact that he had a lot of band-aids and sometimes those band-aids are purples and pinks or with cartoons on them cause they were cheap from a corner store.

The point that Tony was calling him young goes completely over his.

DON'T GET ARRESTED ⸻ ❝ You think they are outside or gonna follow me? ❞ That would be annoyance and there's two things he is considering. If they were literally outside, than he'd fire arrows from the roof to scare them off (might get him in trouble). Clint doubts it's that being the truth, than Clint was probably going to change. Baseball cap, big jacket, shades despite being the night, to mask who he was.

He nods his head and he liked being there for Brandy's bedtime, but he wouldn't mind if she was already laid down and it would just be him and Tony, in one of their beds (it's a good day and sleepovers happened after dates anyways).

❝ Y'know, I think that's the best nickname, pet name. ❞ Meaning he likes being called HONEY as he squeezes Tony's hand. He didn't think Tony was screwing up either of them, and in Clint's defense? He himself thinks he could screw himself up and this relationship as well.

Italy is definitely further off in the future for the both of them, and ⸺ ❝ You just wanna exercise my conversational skills in Italian. ❞ He teases, twirling his fork in the spaghetti and then shoving the large fork full into his mouth. The sentiment is received that Tony would want to do this again.

❝ That'd be a good idea for the date night cookbook. ❞ PASTA FROM SCRATCH LIKE NONA'S. Clint would like to try that.

[enigmaincrimson-personal]

Thinking on it... if we're talking about the Fairy Tail verse, I can definitely say that if Edolas wasn't how it was, Evie's first reaction to seeing two Erzas is... something like "Hey, look, we're triplets!" and being something of a bother.

So... let's just say... that she's been waiting a long time to actually pull that gag of "Yay, more sisters!" when it comes to poor, poor Elkis.

Although to think about Evelyn's off screen antics, she probably knew about her already... so to get both Erza and Elkis in a room is like... the start of a party?

Also... why do I get this weird idea of Evelyn having something of a running gag that... all of the versions of her are just... her? Like it's just an AU, but just... her playing a part?

Because her starting a sister collection is something she'd totally do if she could...

_

I'll have to finish the anime and start 100 year quest eventually, but I suppose Evelyn's abnormal nature would become more of a plot point by then... instead of "she wanders off constantly, so where is she going?" plot excuse.

With something of a... we've looked for this McGuffin everywhere... found nothing but impostors, false alarms, and other stuff... while she's just watching this going on and silently giggling to herself.

_

To be honest, Evie can be just as much as a dork as Erza... even if it looks like she's the more reserved of the pair. It would be more accurate to just say that she has better common sense.

It gets much worse when everyone finds out she's actually messing around with her magic most of the time... because she wouldn't hold back so much...

Not that the infinitely regenerating cake incident wasn't a good indication that there's something weird about that girl.

Of course, her room being bigger than Erza's despite taking about the same space would also bring up questions as well... like she somehow fit an entire mansion in there.

_

Thinking on it, considering the difference in control...

I mean, I could see some of Erza's plans being her trying to be like her sister... who is VERY good at subterfuge...

Feel sorry for everyone when the "sisters" team up...

_

Erza's wanting to have a quiet picnic is bad enough... Evelyn would go full on obsessive... planning out the right place, the right day, what they'll be eating... maybe even wearing for that matter...

The baker not having enough time for making that many of her sister's favorite cake? She'll do it herself, much to the horror of the baker.

Her sister wants to go surfing? She'd probably plan out a full on vacation for the two of them just for that...

_

To be honest though, she already brings weird stuff home with her from her long trips... so they usually don't notice her other antics that much...

Evelyn would totally eat Erza's cake and blame someone else... just to watch the mayhem from her favorite perch.

_

Thinking on it... She would have both Dawnbringer and Void Cutter when she came to the guild... although she probably hid them somewhere...

Would she try and get Iseria and Sable registered as guild members if she could? That would be an interesting reaction from Erza... seeing Evelyn at the corner table with the odd pair... some haughty golden haired woman and her very quiet and dark haired companion.

[theprivatearchives]

12th June 2021 

It really doesn't matter what Ranboo or Corpse or Dream look like... there's no way they'll top Wilbur Soot. ^-^

----

"I got a-l-l-l-l the boys simping for me right now." -Karl Jacobs being selfaware XD

----

Back when I was watching the IRL KarlNap streams live, I watched the one where they're going over the cards and assessing them, and I was like 'hmm... Karl's hoodie is pretty cool" but I didn't think much of it at the time. Now I've just realised it's the fricking MISS YOU CORPSE hoodie!! That hoodie is more iconic than pretty much any merch I'm aware of, and I absolutely adore it.

It's amazing how things come full circle when you follow a trail of fandoms.

----

Watching some older Technoblade lore VODs and Quackity starts spouting -sh** about Technoblade having to pay for his "war crimes" and go on trial and etc. and I'm just watching as my blood boils, thinking about the trash moves Quackity has made in the past and how he's super guilty but he's talking like Techno is the bad guy. I hate Quackity pretty much. (Don't get me wrong, I hate him like any character who's actions I deplore and who is a filthy villain in my sight in any story. Don't hear me saying I hate the CC. That's another story lol.) Anyways, Technoblade was like, "sounds like BeEs" and so now I'm even more convinced I should be a Technoblade fan lol. I live for two days on the dream smp. The day that Dream gets his happy ending, and the day that Quackity gets the negative retribution he deserves.

----

Yikes! Karl's been tweeting @_Corpse to play with him again. That man (Karl) really does momma-bird us with delightful content all the time! He's a special one. <3

----

I just popped in to say that I'm currently catching a Karl & Corpse gaming stream LIVE! Let's goooo! I usually can't see them live. Two of my favourite streamers. <3

----

I felt like crying when Corpse and Karl were saying goodbye. I didn't get too many dishes washed until after the stream finished and I put on a Technoblade lore VOD Lol

----

by @.ibti! @.valkyraelovebot

Most iconic thing corpse ever did? "independent, no label, no agency, no paid promo, from his bedroom"

----

https://twitter.com/CATGIRLSHIT/status/1402769913765376000?s=20 The knife video on this made me lose it. So funny.

----

One day I'll look back at this time and think about how legendary it was... https://twitter.com/CORPSEGENIUS/status/1402360582200758281?s=20

----

This thread is basically my substitute for Twitter lol. I do kinda wish I had twitter. But you can't sign up without giving your phone number so I drew a line at that.

----

What do you do when you want to write fanfiction, but the people or characters you want to write are people you don't think you can write accurately because you're not them?

I want to write Dream but he deals with things by quipping and Karl but he's constantly joking and genuinely super funny all the time and I am about as funny as doing dishes.

[nathank77]

4/13/24

12:18 a.m

Talk about driving me fucking crazy. Can you just tell me? Cause I want a retest if it comes back positive.

At this point I'm just accepting I have HSV2. Do I know for sure? Absolutely not cause quest won't finish the fucking test and I've had absolutely no symptoms but- pretending it's a positive will make a positive less traumatic.

I haven't talked to my mother yet but for some reason, I know damn well if I have it, it's from her giving birth to me vaginally.

How do I feel about this? Well if I pretend it's def positive, even though I know I have HSV1....

1) Well I've been asymptomatic for 16 years to 33 years depending on if it was from my Mother or my two sexcapade so who really cares when it comes to my body? I'm not going to ever get symptoms.

2) Obviously I'll be worried I'll get symptoms one day bc they can be a horror story but I have to use time as a reference and psychosis as the most traumatizing event cause it is and then all my other shit that didn't trigger it.

Also there are treatments for it, if you end up being someone very symptomatic that can stop infection frequency. Katelyn had to do it cause she had many outbreaks.

I can avoid certain things that cause outbreaks and otherwise I can just assume I'll never have symptoms and only worry about it if I do.

And if I ever do I won't be surprised bc I'll know.

3) I feel bad for all my exes. Cause I'm telling 2 or 3 out of 4 of them. If I can reach Cecile. I mean I'd want to know if it was the shoe on the other foot so I could get tested. I can't tell Jon cause he won't talk to me but I would if I could.

They'll also low key hate me-its not my fault planned parenthood only tests for HIV, syphilis, gonorrhea and chlamydia..

I've gotten all my tests done at planned parenthood after every partner since I was like 18 years old and I was over here thinking they screened for everything but they don't. They do not do a full panel like my primary care did. They don't even test for Hepitas for christ sake.

-I'm over here thinking I only have two things, one that isn't even a std:

1] HSV1- My cold sores make it undeniable and I've told everyone I dated.

2] I have Pearly Penile Papules, I've had those since I started testosterone. They aren't sexually attractive, they line the head of my dick and they are ultra tiny. However they increase sexual pleasure and they aren't contagious. They don't do anything. They just exist. They are harmless. I've always told my partners about them bc everyone freaks out about bumps down below and I actually went to Planned Parenthood and had them look at my dick and diagnose it years ago, so it's actually what they are.

3) My main concern is that no one will date me bc I will tell everyone that I get serious with. Not right away but well before sex.

- I wish she hadn't done the blood test. They say needless suffering for a reason. Cause they aren't very accurate and I'm over here saying, "Nathan idc if it's in progress you have HSV2, in order to soften the blow if it comes back positive."

- Either way I wait. I'm mostly concerned that no one will date me. I can't blame someone for not wanting it.

- I mean I'm a transguy. I'm disabled. I'm very mentally ill. I'm a low life. And If I have HSV2 good bye to any chance of me finding a partner.

-Either way it's still in progress. It could come back negative, I just got to prepare for the worst case scenario. And if it comes back negative I'll be happy as a pig in shit. If it comes back positive, then I'll feel all the things I wrote above and I'll get retested and I'll start looking at test accuracy rates.

[cregan-starks]

HOLY SHIT, LAURA!! 🥺🥺🥺 Thank you so, so, so much for taking the time to read, reblog, and write such elaborate comments!! It means a lot to me, it genuinely made my week (probably my month tbh)!! 🥹🥹🥹 I'll put my response under the cut 'cause it's long lol

Honestly, I always have a hard time focusing on anything longer than 6K words. But this? This went by in a blur. 🤭

Oh my, this is such a compliment! 😭 I'm so glad and flattered that the fic had you hooked and that you were able to get through it easily!! 🤗

The built up to Visenya‘s capture at the Stoney Sept was perfect. Her arrival in Harrenhal, the conversation with Daemon and eventually her being out with the army. Amazing. This was so well written, I couldn’t stop reading.

Omg, fun fact: I actually wrote the beginning after I finished writing the rest of the fic 'cause I felt like I needed some sort of introduction/prologue. I'm glad it made sense and paid off!!

The fight between Vhagar and her dragon gave me God‘s Eye vibes and I waited for hers to perish at the claws of Vhagar. But luckily that didn’t happen!

There were definitely some parallels with God's Eye, and I'm so excited that you picked up on that!! 👀 I applaud you for it!! 🥳 Blackwing is a tough girlie, so she pulled through!

And damn, she‘s fierce! Her comebacks with Criston are hilarious — he deserves it.

"Fierce" is a great word to describe Visenya! I would pay for more Visenya v. Criston moments; she's channeling Daemon, just like her dad fr 😌

But then Aemond comes and I just gasped. From the moment she stepped into his tent, I wasn’t sure what to feel anymore.

I wanted to capture the unease one would feel when Aemond shows up unexpectedly, his unpredictability makes him both intimidating and dangerous, y'know.

I am always a sucker for taking off his eyepatch and this was so damn soft, despite her tossing it aside. 🫠

Ha, same brain cell! I also love when the eyepatch gets removed. It's such a vulnerable moment for him. Alas, Visenya didn't take the time to fold it properly 😔

Okay, but PLEASE. He‘s sucking at her bottom lip? And hoists her on the table? Chain me up. This is so hot already, I am afraid that any smut will simply make me ✨ combust ✨

This was just brainrot on my part. I really wanted to introduce elements of the traditional Valyrian wedding ceremony, and the blood-drinking part seemed fitting lmao. They match each other's freak, etc etc.

*sobs* Cregan is a decent man. 🥹

Yes, he is, damn it!! 😩

THIS WAS MEANT TO MAKE ME SIMP FOR AEMOND NOT FOR CREGAN. *swoons* I just love that man your honor.

You can simp for both!! Also, this meme is accurate for this fic imo

Okay, but this is so cute??? Imagine that wolf of a man covered in snowflakes 🥹

Visenya is still a teenager (18), so she tends to romanticise a lot of things. She definitely does it with Cregan, and I wanted to show that with moments like these. But you're right, it was cute 🥺

Damn, he really is heartbroken! He deserves that for killing Luke, but I can’t help but admit that I do feel sad for him (a bit). They should have just fucked it all out lmao

Yup, both Aemond and Visenya are heartbroken, they both feel betrayed by the other, they can't make sense of each other's motives and actions. It's a devastating case of growing apart as you grow older. Although they'll always be a part of one another, there's a fundamental disconnect between them that just can't seem to be mended. The war has only made it worse, since they're both fiercely loyal to their family/faction. Classic case of doomed lovers.

mmmaybe fucking it out would've helped a bit? who knows lmao.

This was amazing, Tori!! 🤍

Thank you so, so, so much for taking the time to read, reblog, and comment!! I'm completely floored, your feedback was extremely thoughtful and kind (I'm gonna print and frame it)!! I'm immensely glad and grateful that you enjoyed the fic!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Flames of Deceit

Summary: Aemond and Visenya reunite amidst the Dance of the Dragons.

Words: 13,005

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x OC, Cregan Stark x OC

Warnings: canon-typical incest (Aemond and Visenya are cousins, as well as uncle and niece), book and show spoilers, Westerosi geopolitics, mentions of imperialism and slavery, canon-typical violence, war, blood and gore, fire and burning, mass death, mention of amputation, mentions of torture and captivity, mentions and threats of execution and physical harm, mentions of poverty and starvation, parental neglect, food and eating, alcohol and drinking, sexism, victim blaming, slut-shaming, ableist language, explicit language, nudity, smut (vaginal sex in flashbacks), unresolved sexual tension, grief/mourning, trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, survivor guilt, mutual pining, emotional/psychological abuse, verbal abuse, mentions of pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, and death in childbirth, mentions of child/infant death, mentions of infidelity. If I missed any warnings, please let me know! Under no circumstances can you copy, plagiarize, steal my work, or post it somewhere else!

Notes: This totally didn’t take me almost 7 months to write. Cregan Stark is the protagonist of Fire & Blood. Rise, Cregan nation. My OC Visenya is Rhaenyra’s and Daemon’s daughter, and Jace’s older twin. Superfecundation, baby. Visenya and Jace are born in 111 AC, not 114 AC. The Battle in the Gullet still occurs in 130 AC, soon after the events of this one-shot. Reblogs and comments are encouraged and immensely appreciated. If this does well, I’ll post a reader version.

Credits: Huge thank you to my betas @maharani-radha-writes 💛 @aereth 💖 and @shewhomustbecalledking 🩶, and to @haystack-boy @lavendertales @buttercup–bee @agirllovespancakes and @oloreaa for their constant patience and support. It means a lot, and I’m immensely grateful. Apart from my OC Visenya, all characters belong to George R.R. Martin. Gif by @aemondtargaryensource (x)

Ao3 | Masterlist | Next

EARLY 130 AC

HARRENHAL, THE RIVERLANDS

          The sheer immensity of Harrenhal had provoked dizziness in Visenya. She had heard the story innumerable times. For four decades, King Harren Hoare had built greedily and obsessively, sacrificing thousands of slaves, and beggaring the riverlands and the Iron Islands. The indestructible construction had been no match for Balerion, whose fire had consumed the tyrant and his sons inside it, ending their line. Most Westerosi believed that the phantoms of the Hoares wandered the castle halls. The fortress is costly to maintain, and it devours its possessors. Qoherys, Harroway, Towers… All extinct. Whether cursed or not, Harrenhal remained a strategic location – the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms.

          The current castellan – Larys Clubfoot’s great-uncle – Ser Simon Strong had recently surrendered Harrenhal to Daemon Targaryen. The presence of Caraxes might have contributed to his hasty decision. Following the victory at the Burning Mill and the subsequent submission of Stone Hedge – terminating Green strength in the riverlands – Queen Rhaenyra’s allies had commenced their gathering at Harrenhal, in accordance with the Prince Consort’s stratagem.

          Visenya had departed Dragonstone on the same night that Daemon had summoned her, having been granted safe passage by the Velaryon ships patrolling the Gullet. At the outbreak of the war, the Sea Snake’s fleet had closed off Blackwater Bay, choking trade to and from the capital.

          As soon as she had dismounted her dragon in the castle yard, she had sensed the eerie ambience that had haunted Harrenhal’s colossal curtain walls and fissured, melted towers. Formidable and dreadful. Harren’s monument and tomb. Blackwing had responded to Caraxes’ fervent shriek with her own, flapping her wings at him. Happy to be reunited.

          Her father had offered her a warm welcome and a tight embrace, had even insisted that she sit on his war council, wherein she had befriended Alysanne Blackwood, whom she had grown quite fond of.

          At last, Visenya had thought, on the morning that Daemon had sent for her. Though she loved him dearly, her father hadn’t invited her there because he had missed his daughter. Visenya had met with Daemon alone, in the Hall of the Hundred Hearths – she had counted thirty-five – grander than the throne room in King’s Landing, the discolored ceiling looming loftily above them. Her father had donned his chain mail over his crimson tunic.

          Does he sleep in that? Or am I the threat?

          ‘Ser Crispin and the Kinslayer are marching on Harrenhal,’ Daemon had informed her, instead of “good morrow”, pressing a rolled parchment into her palm, ‘They mean to join forces with the Lannisters’, at Stoney Sept.’

          Her heart had jolted at the mere mention of his title. Aemond… At the Usurper’s farce of a coronation that the Hightowers had compelled her to attend – dressed in green – Visenya had kissed him farewell, forsaking any glimmer of hope for a future with him. I have demonstrated where my loyalties lie. I have chosen my family.

          Her lilac eyes had skimmed over the scrawled message on the sheepskin, the wax sigil foreign to her. The White Worm?

          ‘You are strangely poised,’ Visenya had observed, suspicious, studying her father’s amused expression.

          ‘I’ve been waiting for this,’ he had confirmed, smirking wickedly, curling his hand around the hilt of sheathed Dark Sister. Another one of his traps… and he’s pulling me into it. Daemon had gently cradled her cheek, purring, ‘I have a mission for you, sweetling.’

Keep reading

[mypoisonedvine]

Side Effects | Bruce Banner x reader

summary: you never know what might be in the beakers at another chemist's station. you never know which of your colleagues might come along just in the knick of time to become the only antidote to your affliction.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut! (dub con due to sex pollen), semi-public sex (because technically someone could have walked by but unlikely), guilt/hesitance, kinda pining??, fingering, creampie,

a/n: yes, this is an accurate depiction of emergency shower protocol in a chemical lab and yes it is every lab technician's worst nightmare. thankfully the other stuff is not an accurate depiction of any known chemical, lol.

You wiped your forehead with a tired sigh, staring down at the calculations in front of you before using your pen to scribble over them before tearing out the page and throwing it away.

“You still do that by hand?” Bruce interjected, making you look up at where he was leaning in the doorway to the lab, watching you work.

“Oh, Dr. Banner!” you greeted with a smile, wondering if it was too ecstatic. You weren’t so good at the ‘playing it cool’ thing like he seemed to be.

“We have all those fancy screens and digital whiteboards, you know,” he explained as he stepped in and looked around at your work. “Not to mention the computer can do that stuff for you.”

“I know,” you scoffed, “but I always feel better doing it myself, on real paper. Not that I’m having any luck at the moment…”

"Here, I'll give them a quick look while you take a break," he offered, glancing at the numbers from over your shoulder. "You just get up and stretch your legs for a minute, doc."

You always thought it was sort of silly for him to call you that when he was a doctor as well, but you didn't complain.

Regardless, you were about to tell him that it was fine and you didn't need a break, but he was leaning in closer to take your seat and the proximity was so intimidating that you hopped up and went along with it anyways. He sat down and pondered your calculations while you circled the lab, taking a moment to appreciate how nice it felt to stand up and move around after sitting for so long.

"Your handwriting is…" Bruce trailed off, adjusting his glasses.

"Feminine and graceful?" you finished sarcastically.

"Sure," he chuckled.

"Yeah, just like me—" you started to quip, but mid-sentence you (ironically) stumbled and tripped, using a nearby table to catch yourself— but you accidentally grabbed onto a beaker, which tipped over and smashed onto the ground. The liquid inside spilled onto the floor just before you did, and you winced as you fell into the puddle of the unknown substance.

“Shit!” you hissed as you scrambled to get up, looking down at your clothes and seeing they were covered in the fluid, which was beginning to evaporate, or steam, or something. Remembering lab safety protocols, you instantly began to strip, closing your eyes and wishing Bruce hadn’t come in just before this. As you shirked your lab coat, shirt, and skirt, you walked to the emergency shower, pulling the lever and gasping when the chilly stream of water poured down on you. Bruce looked at you with wide eyes before being kind enough to turn around as you shivered and removed your bra and underwear, now completely naked and weakly scrubbing yourself with your hands in hopes that none of the chemical had gotten onto your skin.

“What is it?” he asked nervously, turning his head back enough that you could hear him over the flow of water, but hopefully not so much that he could see anything important.

“I don’t know,” you answered, “it’s not mine. It’s something Dr. Sutherland was working on…”

“Is it… are you in pain at all?” he asked, even more concerned, and you tried to decide if you could feel any effects.

“N-no…” you answered hesitantly. You felt hot, and strange, and you were covered in rolling chills, but you figured that was just the situation you were in— naked in a tepid shower in front of your coworker who just so happened to be incredibly sexy.

“I should call poison control,” Bruce offered as he reached for his cell phone.

“No, I’m fine,” you denied as the water flow slowed down and you wiped your face, confident that you looked like a complete mess— but at least you saved yourself from whatever was in that beaker, right?

“Here,” Bruce offered an emergency blanket to you after pulling it off a nearby shelf, and it was not at all absorbent but it helped with the draft as you stepped away from the shower which was still leaking the last few drops of water onto the drain on the floor.

“Thank you,” you nodded nervously, shivering and dripping and looking back at him with no idea what to say at all.

“Do you feel alright? I should check you for burns,” he suggested. “I— I won’t look…”

“Please,” you sighed, pulling the blanket a bit to expose your chest and stomach. He brushed his hand over the skin there, making you instantly whine as heat burned just under your skin, clouding your mind and making you crave even more.

"Did that hurt?" he asked anxiously, pulling away, but you stepped closer.

"No it's… it's good, it's so good."

He furrowed his brow as he looked down at you, putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're burning up, doc, you must be running a fever of 105."

"Touch me more, please," you whimpered. It was like you were in a dream, everything foggy and distant, and the only time that anything made sense was when he touched you. Or maybe it was that his touch sent you further into delirium; you couldn't be sure.

He gasped when he looked at your quivering legs only to find slick arousal running down the inside of them, threatening to drip onto the floor.

"Oh," he sighed.

"Please," you begged mindlessly, "Dr. Banner, I n-need you…"

"No, you need medical attention."

You whined and grabbed as his shirt, humming at the feeling of his warm skin just beneath. If the forearms that he often left exposed in rolled-up sleeves were anything to go buy, his chest was probably toned and tanned, lightly dusted with dark hair… you were all but drooling at the thought. "Please, Bruce… just help me," you pleaded, looking up into his eyes which were swirling with conflict.

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'd be taking advantage."

He must have seen the heartbreak of rejection make you wince, because he tried to soothe you with his hands resting on your arms— even just that contact making you suppress a moan.

"I've wanted this for so long," he explained, "and you— you haven't. You're unwell, you need to go to a hospital."

You sobbed a little at the idea of being taken away from him and examined by strangers, when you knew the solution was right in front of you. "No, no Bruce they'll touch me! Nobody can touch me but you, I only want you."

He scoffed, but you heard the weakness in it and you needed him to give in soon before you melted from your own hear. "You're deranged— delirious," he reiterated.

"It'll feel so good, please Bruce, I'll be so good for you— anything you want, I'll do it, I'm yours."

"Stop talking like that," he winced. "I can't… I can't."

"I need to feel you inside me, Dr. Banner, I need it more than anything. It's just gonna get worse… please, help me. I want you. I trust you."

"You'll hate me in the morning," he asserted. "God, this is so wrong…"

But much to your relief, he reached down and hesitantly slid his thick middle finger through your folds, gasping gently as he felt how wet you were. "I should t-take you somewhere private."

"No, need you now— right here," you pleaded, trying to chase his touch with your hips.

"But if someone came by—" he began to fret, glancing at the door; but his attention was turned back to you by your hands weaving into his hair.

"Nobody else stays this late, god, Bruce please I just need you so bad—"

He cut you off with a sudden kiss, which was enough on its own to make warmth bloom in your gut, but then he started to move his finger again and you shuddered with a moan that was muffled by his lips.

"Maybe I can make you come like this," he offered as he pulled back just enough to whisper to you, "would that help you? It'll take the edge off."

You bucked and moaned against his fingers, just those subtle touches driving you wild. "N-no, it has to be inside! You have to fuck me, I need your cock."

He breathed through his teeth, like he was almost considering it, but then looked away. "I can't," he shook his head.

"Can't or won't?"

He frowned. "Won't. I'll get you off with my fingers, otherwise it would be… too selfish."

"Bruce, I'm literally begging you for it," you sighed, the irritated tone that you'd intended lost in the moans he elicited by rubbing your swollen clit.

"I know," he winced, "I know and it's killing me that I can't give you what you're asking for… I swear if it wasn't like this…" he trailed off as you looked up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What would it be like?" you asked lowly. "Tell me how you would fuck me."

For all his shyness before, there was a brief switch in his demeanor as he leaned in, breath hot against your neck as he whispered, two fingers sliding into your channel at the exact moment that he spoke.

"So fucking hard."

You whimpered, knees wobbling a bit as you tried to ride his fingers— but he wasn't pushing back, wasn't giving you enough force to balance against when you sought more friction. "P-please, Bruce— I know you want to, please, please baby I need it so bad…"

"I know," he breathed, free hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, and it was so needlessly compassionate, so effortlessly soothing that your heart had no choice but to clench at his tenderness. Other parts of you clenched as well, in much more literal ways, but the heart thing was more important.

You gingerly reached forward and palmed his cock through his pants, moaning when you felt how hard it was. "You're desperate, too," you informed him with a little smile. "It hurts, doesn't it? It aches."

"Yes," he answered tensely.

"I'm hurting too. I'm aching, for you. Please, Bruce, help me."

As he pulled back and examined your face, he chewed his lip and contemplated. He couldn't stand to see you in pain, but he couldn't comprehend what he had to do to help you. Well, okay, that's not totally accurate because he had actually "comprehended" the idea of making love to you plenty of times. But that was just a fantasy, a very misguided one that he only indulged in in his weakest moments. And in those fantasies, shockingly enough, you were always completed lucid and of sound mind and body. He sadly could not say that for you at the moment, and of course he couldn't because of course when you were sober and healthy, you didn't see him that way.

Bruce prided himself on his logic, his integrity, his patience. Suddenly, those qualities were falling prey to a much deeper, carnal instinct that saw this not as a predicament but as an opportunity. Logic states, after all, that it would be wasteful to have everything he wanted thrown into his lap and to let it go to waste.

"Fuck," he groaned as he kissed you again, fucking you faster with his fingers. You moaned and went for his belt, barely managing to open it with your hands shaking so much; part of you had considered just trying to rip the leather off of him, and with the force of your need it seemed almost plausible.

Finally getting his trousers opened just enough to reach inside, you purred as you reached in and navigated past his boxers to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. It was so thick and smooth and hot and you almost wanted to drop to your knees and take it in your throat right then, but you had better plans.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, grinning against you at the way you whined, before wrapping his arms around you and quickly instructing you to jump.

It was infuriating, how easily he caught you when you wrapped your body around him. Infuriating and so painfully sexy.

He never broke the kiss as he walked the two of you to your lab table, sliding the papers aside and onto the floor to set you on it. You started on his aggravatingly-small shirt buttons while he pushed his trousers and boxers down the rest of the way, and god his cock was right there between your legs, so close but very much too far away for your liking.

You didn't have the time or energy to get his shirt off, settling for just running your hands over the exposed skin instead. He grinned and watched the path your hands made, hissing slightly when they wrapped around his shaft— for a second you swore you could feel it throb.

"Don't make me wait anymore," you whispered your plea, sighing a little when he nodded.

"Okay baby," he agreed.

"Been waiting so long," you whined.

"Me too," he nodded, and with a little push, his cock slid all the way into you and filles you to the brim. Even when you were completely drenched, the girth of him was so wide that it stung, that it tore you open, but you loved it. Your head fell back and just from him being inside you, you came. The substance had you so needy and sensitive that that was all it took. It wasn't enough yet, of course. You knew you needed more. But God, he felt so good you could hardly breathe.

"Baby," you heard Bruce gasp, his fingers digging into your hips. Your chest twisted when he laughed a little, breathless and just teetering on the line between complimentary and mocking. "Did you just come?"

You considered playing dumb, but nodded instead.

His smile was apparent when he pressed his lips just below your ear to suck on the delicate skin there, his teeth trailing up to nibble your earlobe lightly. You hoped he would leave a mark, you hoped he would leave lots of marks that you could remember this by for weeks to come.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" he asked breathlessly, whispering so quietly you could barely hear it over the beating of your own pulse which echoed in your ears.

"You feel so good," you justified, "so fucking good, Bruce."

"You too," he sighed as he finally pulled back and slid into you again, the friction making your back arch instantly. "Even better than I imagined."

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips, forcing him to push deeper with each thrust. When he pushed you to your limits it felt like you might just fall apart right there, but it was so worth it.

As if that wasn't enough, he reached down and circled a thumb over your overstimulated clit, grinning down at you at the sight of you writhing and bucking wildly in his arms.

"Fuck!" you cried as you tightened your hands on his shoulders into fists hard enough to risk tearing through his shirt.

"Too much?"

"More," you pleaded instead, crying out when he gave you exactly what you wanted with fast, rough thrusts into your drenched walls. "Yes," you sobbed, "yes, fuck— m'gonna come, Bruce, gonna come again."

"Go ahead," he encouraged, voice so much rougher than normal, "show me how good it feels, baby."

It felt like his words were the thin that pushed you over the edge, as if your body somehow both understood and obeyed his command. You could feel a renewed wave of slick leak out from you, enough that you could hear the wetness in each slap of his hips against yours. His name was somewhere in the litany of curses and praises that spilled from your lips, your mind too clouded with hazy pleasure to keep track of what you were actually saying.

"Just like that," he groaned, "doing so good, fuck, say my name just like that every time I make you come."

An easy enough stricture to follow, especially when it seemed like he was all you could think about. He looked so different with his clothes half-shorn and his eyes dark with lust. He hadn't taken his glasses or labcoat off and you weren't sure which of those you were happier about.

His lips and hands were all over you; you couldn't even keep track of everywhere he was touching you, that's how overwhelming it was. "God, you're so fucking perfect," he groaned against your skin, finding a hardened nipple as his tongue explored you and wrapping his lips around it. "You are so goddamn sexy, you know that? I love seeing you with your legs spread for me like a needy little whore. I love hearing you moan and knowing I'm the one making you feel this good."

He took a moment to look at you and soak in your shocked reaction to his words before leaning in to continue.

"I love feeling you come for me," he purred in your ear.

"Then you're gonna really like what I'm about to do," you shivered.

"Yeah? You can gimme another one already?" he smiled. "Such a good girl…"

You really couldn't help it, it felt like everything he did only enhanced your pleasure— his words, his hands all over you, not to even mention his cock inside you. As much as the hedonistic corner of your brain was happy to let this go on forever, the ramifications of constant orgasms were finally catching up with you as you wondered how much more of this you could take.

"F-fuck, are you close?" you asked weakly. "Want you to come for me, Bruce, please."

"I-I'll pull out," he suggested, although the way he looked down at his length sinking into you and pulling back out, covered in your abundant arousal, didn't exactly indicate that he was willing and able to actually make good on his offer.

"No!" you yelped, pulling him closer by his unbuttoned shirt. "It needs to be inside, Bruce, please come inside me."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth.

"Please, Bruce, please, promise you'll come inside."

"I will," he sighed, "fuck, I will baby, I promise I'm gonna fill you up so good, you're gonna have my come so fucking deep inside you…"

"Yes!" you moaned, completely unabashed as the unknown substance had apparently absolved you of any shame whatsoever. "Yes, I want it, Bruce, I want your come."

The moment you felt his seed start to paint your walls, you felt relief begin to wash over you. Your mind and body relaxed, the overwhelming heat under your skin subsiding into a comforting warmth, the desperation that had burned in your gut satiated at last.

And that left you staring up at him in realization of what you had done, just as he looked back at you with the same.

"God, I'm so sorry—" he shuddered, moving to pull away. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his hips again, holding him close.

"N-no, wait," you groaned, "it's okay. Don't go."

"You don't hate me," he said, the exhaustion in his tone making it hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Never," you sighed with a weak smile, sitting up to clutch his face and kiss him again. "God, Bruce, now I'm just wondering what took us so long."

"Our lab safety is just too good, clearly," he smiled as he kissed you again, pulling back a little too soon to examine your face where he held it in his hands. "Are you okay? You should still probably go to a doctor…"

"I'm already with a doctor," you smirked, "and his treatment was very effective."

"Yeah, that was…" he trailed off, wide eyes as if he were reminiscing about what had only just transpired.

"Sorry for being so… desperate," you cringed. "I didn't mean to… um… impose…"

He just laughed and kissed your forehead, making you feel your cheeks warm a bit; ironic that with everything that had just happened, this was what made you blush. "A beautiful, amazing woman that I've been dreaming about for months begs me to take her in the laboratory… really inconvenient."

"I mean, cleaning up these papers and the broken glass is gonna be pretty tedious, along with the incident report," you frowned.

"I'll help you with it," he offered.

"Tomorrow," you decided. "Right now, I'm taking you to my place."

"Is that so?" he asked with a bemused smirk.

"Yep. We both are in serious need of a shower, and then I wanna go again," you grinned wickedly.

"I thought you said you weren't feeling the effects of the chemical anymore," he recalled, voice tinted with concern.

"I'm not," you reassured, "I'm just feeling the effects of you."