#why is the enby nerds eyes different are they looking at something WHAT IS IT THEY ARE GAWKINF AT??

[yourlocaltrashbin64]

Most of my friends are

So am I

GAY NERDS UNITE

Repost if your friends are gay nerds like mine are

[bakugoukatsukiswife]

You’re Mine

A/N: NONE OF Y’ALL COME FOR ME FOR THIS HEADER THING LMAO. I really wanted to use it for this fic cause it involves a jealous Bakugou haha. I’m very proud of this fic so I hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Bakugou x f!reader

Words: 3,404

Warnings: Choking, hair pulling, degradation, spanking, quirk use. Rough sex. Smut. 

Tags: @smol-enby​ @myherowritings​ @lordexplosionsextra​ 

You and Bakugou had a very loving relationship, even though he was constantly busy as a pro hero, he still made time for you. He was pretty stubborn and could have you boiling with sheer frustration at how he acted, with his cocky attitude that hadn’t really changed since high school. As much as you loved being with him though and admired how attentive he was to you, there were times when he could really drive you up the wall with how he acted. You two butted heads frequently, he was an asshole but you loved him and couldn’t imagine a future without him. You knew he cared about you, from the way he would cook you dinner on his days off when you had a long day at work or just craved his cooking in general; him staying in bed to cuddle you for a few more minutes when you begged him not to leave, having movie nights with you in matching pjs even though you knew matching pjs were not his thing. He did these things cause he loved you, you knew that. Or did you? 

Him being the famous pro hero Ground Zero took up a lot of his time. From press conferences, to working overtime and everything in between, you guys barely had time to slow down and enjoy each other’s presence like you used to. By the time you had picked out matching pjs and popped popcorn for movie night, Bakugou would be passed out on the couch. You tried your best to not be upset about it, you knew that Bakugou was working his hardest to keep Japan safe. But there was always a little voice in the back of your head telling you different. Bakugou went from whistling in appreciation when you would walk by him in a cute outfit to barely acknowledging your presence when you came in from work and he was playing video games with Kiri and Kaminari. 

“Babe?” You questioned and Bakugou’s red eyes that were always a comfort focused on you-for a brief second. 

“Hmm?” Bakugou questioned as his attention went back to the game. 

“Want to watch a movie together?” You questioned hopefully and Bakugou nodded. 

“Yeah let me finish this match up and then we can, baby.” Bakugou answered and you sat down on the couch, a smile spreading across your face. Finally, after weeks you and your boyfriend would be able to have some quality time together. 

One match turned into three. You stalked off to the bedroom-not that Katsuki would have noticed. You passed out shortly after laying down, and woke back up around 2 in the morning, heart sinking slightly when you heard Bakugou still playing games. You heard your phone chime and looked to see that you had a notification from Izuku Midoriya and you smiled to yourself as you looked at the text. You and Izuku had always been close friends since you two were kids; in UA you both drifted apart as you strived to become the best heroes you could and you started dating Bakugou at the time as well. You and Izuku still talked from time to time, but it was in passing. You needed someone to vent to about how you had been feeling about Katsuki though and besides Mina, you knew Izuku was always there to listen to your troubles even if you two had drifted. 

Izuku was sweet like that. 

Anger subsided, you made plans to go out to grab a bite to eat with him tomorrow and just catch up before passing back out. Not like Bakugou was going to come to bed, anyway. 

You woke up the next morning and pulled out a cute sundress, admiring it in the mirror before changing into it. You went to the bathroom and fixed up your appearance before pausing. Why were you getting dressed up? This was just a casual bite to eat, that’s all. You slipped some shoes on, faintly smelling breakfast wafting from the kitchen just before Bakugou stepped in the bedroom. He had on sweatpants that hung low on his hips, a happy trail disappearing in the sweats and your eyes trailed up his muscular form to look at his handsome face that you loved so much. He took in your outfit and cocked a brow. 

“You going somewhere?” He asked, coming over to you to wrap his arms around you. 

“Mhmm, I’m going to go out and eat with a friend,” you say, making sure to not mention the friend was Izuku Midoriya. Bakugou would go feral at that. 

“Oh well I made breakfast to make up for last night. I’m sorry, the boys wouldn’t leave me alone about playing a game.” Bakugou apologized and you could tell he was sincere as he placed a kiss on your cheek. Guilt panged in your stomach but you quickly willed it away. Why were you feeling bad? He was the one who wasn’t paying attention to you, you knew if you brought this up to him too, he would just get upset. 

“Mhmm. If I wasn’t going to eat, I would eat what you made. It smells delicious.” You said as you gave Bakugou a kiss before leaving the house to go out to eat with Izuku. You weren’t doing anything wrong, just going to see an old friend. That Bakugou absolutely hated. 

You arrived at the cafe, seeing Izuku’s bright green hair from the window and you smiled. You stepped out, the comforting smell of coffee and pastries calming you as you stepped inside to greet the man. His eyes meet yours and he quickly stands up to wrap you in a hug. 

“(Y/N), it’s so good to see you.” Izuku says and your heart warms at his soft voice in your ear before he pulls away. You both sit down in the booth before he hands you a drink and you realize that it’s your favorite coffee drink-he had never forgotten. 

Bakugou clicked his tongue as he looked down at his third unread text he had sent you as he walked into the break room where Kaminari and Kirishima were. 

“Hey man, I thought you took today off to spend the day with (Y/N).” Kirishima said and Bakugou shrugged as he adjusted his hero gear. 

“I did but she went out to eat, so I came here to make a little extra cash.” Bakugou said but what Kaminari said next made his blood freeze. 

“Oh yeah, Mina told me she was going out to eat with Izuku today.” Denki said and Kirishima’s eyes widened when Bakugou slammed his locker shut, his hands gripping at the metal tightly. 

“She what?” Bakugou growled as he turned around, his eyes glowing like fire and the heroes stepped back-both were all too familiar with the hothead and his temper. “She went out to eat with Deku?” Bakugou spat out, his eyes dark as he gripped his phone tightly. It’s not like he cared that you were out with a guy, hell you went out on “dates” with Kirishima and Kaminari all the time. But this was Izuku, and he knew that the nerd had feelings for you. Anyone could. You were Katsuki’s, and the fact that you went out to see the stupid nerd had his blood boiling. He stepped away to call you, and after the second attempt you finally picked up the phone. 

“Why the hell are you out with Deku?” He asked, not caring if he could be heard through the line. 

“Because, I can.” You shot back and Bakugou’s grip on his phone tightened. 

“I took off work so we could spend time together-.” Bakugou started but you cut him off with a laugh. 

“Oh really? Cause that’s the first time you’ve put any effort into doing anything in our relationship lately. I’m tired of you not treating me like you used to, Katsuki.” You said and Bakugou’s stomach twisted. You never said his first name unless it was serious, you always called him babe or Suki. What he wouldn’t give to hear that right now instead. 

“(Y/N)...” Bakugou started but you stopped him with a sigh. 

“I really don’t want to do this over the phone Katsuki. It’s my fault for not saying anything about this sooner. We can talk more when I get home,” you said before hanging up. Bakugou looked at his phone, guilt coursing through him. Fuck he really messed up. 

“U-uh is everything okay, (Y/N)?” Izuku asked and you nodded, a small smile on your face. 

“Yeah, just had to take care of that. I’m good.” You lied, your stomach twisting with nerves. Time passed by for hours but felt like minutes as you and Izuku continued to talk, both of you trading stories of how hero work has kept you guys busy. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and you noticed it was Kirishima. 

“Hey Kiri, what’s up?” You asked him, hearing as Kirishima shushed Denki in the background. 

“Hey (Y/N)! Um… we wanted to let you know that Bakugou got hit with a quirk today and he had to go home early. We figured we would call and let you know cause it’s not something anyone can really treat except you,” Kirishima finished off awkwardly and you cocked your head. 

“What do you mean?” You asked and Kirishima chuckled as he coughed awkwardly. 

“Well the idiot was blowing off steam after your phone call with him and he rushed headfirst into an attack. It was a sex quirk. We don’t know how long it will last and medicine won’t really help it,” Kirishima said and you could tell he was scratching the back of his neck awkwardly like he always did when he was nervous. 

“O-oh. Okay, I can take care of that.. I guess.” You said before hanging up the phone, a blush on your cheeks. It’s not like you and Bakugou didn’t have sex… the sex you guys did have was mind-blowing. But you guys hadn’t had proper sex in a few weeks-almost months, and you didn’t really expect to be having it because he had been hit with a sex quirk. 

“I’m so sorry Izuku, but I have to go home. Katsuki got… injured on the job.” You said and Izuku’s eyes widened as he waved his hands in understanding. 

“Oh no! I totally understand. Let me know how he’s feeling later, okay?” Izuku said before giving you a hug goodbye. 

You went to your car and your heart pounded in your throat when you saw that you had a few calls and texts you had missed from Bakugou. 

Angry baby 7:49 PM

(Y/N), I need you to come home. Now. 

Angry baby: 7:50 PM

(Y/N), I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’m sorry. Just come home. Need you. 

You quickly pulled out of the parking lot, heart hammering in your chest as you made it to the house and noticed Bakugou’s car parked rather carelessly in the driveway. You got out and made your way inside, darkness embracing you as you shut the door. 

“Katsuki?” You call out, seeing faint light in the bedroom. You walk into the bedroom, jumping when the door shuts behind you but before you can react properly, you’re pressed against the wall and fiery red eyes meet yours. 

You gasp when Katsuki’s hand threads into your hair, fingers gripping at the locks as he pulls. Hard. You let out a small whimper as his other hand comes to grip your jaw, pointer and thumb coaxing your lips apart. 

“You,” Bakugou pants out, his breath fanning against your face as he looks down at you. “You are in so much trouble, baby girl.” You can feel how hard he is, the fabric of his sweatpants straining to keep his cock contained as he presses open mouthed kisses to your neck. 

“K-Katsuki, I-ah!” you start, a cry escaping your mouth as your thoughts are turned to mush when Bakugou bites down on your neck. His hand that is still in your hair tugs slightly as he sucks at the inflamed skin. A growl rumbles from his throat as he picks you up, carrying you as if you weigh nothing. 

“No talking. You’ve been bad and I’m going to punish that slutty pussy of yours,” Bakugou says, his voice dropping an octave lower as he grabs the front of your dress. The room fills with the sound of fabric ripping as he tears the dress off of you. You start to protest but you take a better look at Bakugou and see that his body is glistening with sweat, his breathing seems to be slightly labored and guilt floods your system. Sure, Bakugou can rush headfirst into things, but it’s only really when he is really upset. You not talking to him about things and expressing your feelings caused a rift between you. You wanted things to work out between you and Katsuki. 

You felt as Katsuki’s rough yet gentle hands traveled down to your underwear, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. You let out a moan as your back arched slightly at Bakugou’s hands on you. He removed your underwear before kneeling down to admire your soaked cunt. 

“I know this quirk is making me want to fuck your brains out right now, but I really want to eat this pretty pussy out first.” He said, his lips going to leave marks on your thigh and your hands automatically went to his unruly blonde hair. A groan left his mouth when you tugged slightly and he made quick work of his tongue. Lewd noises of him licking, slurping and biting filled the air as he inserted two fingers into your tight hole. You started to move your hips against Katsuki, your clit dragging along his tongue deliciously as he finger-fucked your cunt, causing your walls to clench around his digits. 

“K-Katsuki.. I’m fixing to c-cum.” You manage to squeak out and Katsuki lets out a chuckle. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over my face.” Bakugou says as he dives back in, his tongue flicking at the small bundle of nerves. Your orgasm washes over you in waves and you moan as you ride it out, your slick coating Bakugou’s chin and mouth as his red eyes meet yours, a smirk forming on his face. 

He lifts up to give himself a few pumps to coat his dick with his pre as he wipes your slick off his face, using his dick to gently tap at your entrance before pushing inside. A moan escapes the both of you as Bakugou hovers over you, his lips going to latch at the skin of your neck as he starts to thrust inside of you. 

“I’m not going to hold back, just know that right now.” Bakugou growls in your ear before hooking your legs around his waist with one hand while the other goes to wrap around your neck like it was made for your throat-almost like a necklace. He squeezes slightly, drawing out a choked moan from you before he slips two fingers in your mouth, digits pressing your tongue down to keep your mouth open. 

“Keep that pretty little mouth of yours open,” Bakugou says before he purses his lips, slowly allowing his saliva to fall from his lips and into your mouth. You let out a whine as his spit hits your tongue and his cock drags along your walls when you clench. 

“Fuck baby,” Bakugou moans, his teeth latching on your skin again as his thrusts get faster, harder. “You’re going to take this cock like the filthy slut you are. You like this cock going deep inside? Yeah, deep inside that tight little hole of yours.” Bakugou growls as his fingers stay on your tongue, causing drool to seep at the corners of your mouth. His teeth dig into your skin and you let out a whine. “I’m marking you fucking everywhere. You’re fucking mine. All mine,” Bakugou’s voice drops lower, almost feral as he picks up the pace even faster. You feel your toes curl into the sheets as his dick kisses the sweet spot inside of you; sending you towards your second orgasm. You clench around him as you moan out his name, your juices coating his cock as you release a second time that night. Bakugou’s hips stutter as he lets out a groan, shooting out hot ropes of cum to paint your walls white. 

He pulls out of you and motions for you to flip over. He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow when your eyes widen. 

“Oh, you thought we were done? We’re nowhere near done, princess.” Bakugou chuckles before grabbing your hips and flipping you over. His hands grip at your hips, fingers leaving indents as he wraps a hand around your waist; prodding his cockhead at your enterance before slipping inside smoothly. A moan leaves his lips as you move back against him, his lips leaving kisses along your back. 

“Fuck, (Y/N). You feel fucking amazing, shit.” He moans out, his free hand going to tangle in your hair again and pull slightly. You let out a whimper when you feel a heat course through you at Bakugou licking a stripe from your neck up to your ear. “You’re all mine,” he growls out, and you feel as his fingers dig sharper into your waist as he thrusts into you. “No one can fuck you as good as I can. You were made for me and only me. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for weeks.” 

Your body shudders in pleasure at his words alone as he continues to move inside of you. The sounds of Bakugou’s growls and your whimpers fill the room as he keeps fucking you and you feel absolutely full. You hear a sudden smack before your brain registers that Bakugou has spanked you. 

“Again, please Katsuki,” you whine and Bakugou smirks, you can feel it on your neck. 

“Oh? You want me to spank that cute ass of yours again?” He teases, his tone slightly amused. 

“Yes! Please Katsuki. Use your quirk…” you mumble out, making him chuckle as he cocks his head. 

“Hmm? Couldn’t hear you over the sound of me fucking you. What was that?” He teased and you felt your face heat up. 

“Use your quirk on my ass, please!” You blurted out. That was all he needed to hear before you heard the small pops of Bakugou’s quirk being used, his hand connecting with your ass. You let out a sound between a yelp and a moan and Bakugou did it again. 

“You’re such a filthy girl for wanting me to use my quirk on you. Such a filthy, naughty girl.” Bakugou said before spanking your ass again. It stung, but it was a pleasant feeling. 

“Fuck. Katsuki… I’m about to….” You whimper before letting out a choked moan when Katsuki slaps your ass again, causing your orgasm to wash over you once more as you fall forward on your elbows to keep your spent body up. Katsuki grips your hips again as he moves faster into you, strings of curses leaving his mouth as he cums again. His cum slowly starts to seep out of you and onto the sheets, making Bakugou smirk as he pushes it back inside with his fingers. 

“You look so pretty filled with my cum, baby.” Bakugou says as he gets off the bed, coming back to you with aloe vera and a washcloth. You notice his eyes aren’t glazed over anymore and he seems to be back to normal again. Thank goodness. He cleans you off and gently applies the aloe vera to your ass before climbing back into bed with you, gently wrapping you up in his arms. 

“(Y/N)... I’m so sorry I haven’t been as attentive. You’re my everything and I’ll continue to prove that to you everyday to make up for these past few weeks. I love you.” Katsuki says softly as he looks into your eyes, his red eyes sincere and you feel your heart soar. 

“I love you too, Katsuki.” You say happily as he presses a kiss to your forehead before wrapping you up in his arms.

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 23

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Hey..... a member of my household just tested positive for Covid-19, and I am displaying symptoms sooooooo hopefully that won’t affect posting but it has made this chapter a little shorter than I had wanted. Basically if the next chapter isn’t out on time that’s why.

cw: b a d parenting, references to trauma

~

Remus chewed on the end of his pen. Riley, Alberts, Robertson, Robinson, Richards, Allison, Reese, Arlowe . . . something that started with an 'A' or an 'R'. But what? Why couldn't he remember his own last name?

Logan was always saying something about brainwashing and trauma, but Logan knew his own last name! Stupid Logan Sanders and his calm explanations for everything in Remus's life. He didn't want someone telling him how he felt or why, he wanted to move on. He wanted to figure himself out for himself. He wanted out.

The trip to the library a couple weeks ago had been even worse than expected. Logan hadn't even let go of Patton, despite how uncomfy the kid looked. It had to suck to be twenty-something and have your dad drag you around by the shoulders everywhere you go.

Patton had only wanted one book, for some reason. There were so many books in that building, and Logan had pulled like a hundred from the shelves just to show him. He'd signed so quickly about the book that Remus couldn't keep up, but Logan had frowned and talked to the librarian for a few minutes, before eventually presenting Patton with a book—which was probably the one he'd been asking for. His face looked weird after receiving it, happy, but also seriously depressed. It looked pretty old, Remus had no idea why he'd wanted that book.

Rivers, Albright, Abbott, Ramsey, Russell, Reed, Rowell, Austen. . . . Nothing. Not even a smidge of anything. Well, if he couldn't remember his last name, what about the name of where he used to live?

The city came to him almost instantly.

Sharon.

Remus snorted. That was a stupid name for a city. Actually, he could remember joking about it with his brother, about how their mom shared it.

Energy flooded to his limbs with a suddenness, and when the bell rang from the door opening beside him he literally fell out of his seat.

“W-welcome to Chevron,” he said, straightening up. The customer nodded barely at him, making a beeline for the refrigerators in the back. Remus quickly wrote on the scrap of paper he'd been doodling circles onto so far: 'sharon – town and ma'.

Now he just had to figure out which state sounded the most familiar, and if Sharon was a city there. He'd spent days just driving around town with friends, he probably still knew his way around.

The customer paid for a few jugs of Gatorade, then left, dust puffing up behind his truck as he pulled out of the parking lot. Remus sat back down, scratching his mustache with his pen. He could google the city when he got home, then. . . .

Then he'd figure out how to tell Patton and Logan he was leaving.

-

Patton sighed, flipping through the first half of the book again. Summer, it was called. This copy looked almost identical to the other one. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers along the slightly indented title, like Virgil would. He'd had it for almost two months now, asking Father to renew the book instead of allowing it to be returned. He really wanted to finish it, after all.

Not that he could ever get himself to read past around the middle.

Patton's notebook was almost full now, but he couldn't ask Remus for another. Not after how much Remus was already doing for him. The pages were filled with studying mouth movements, bad jokes, and journal entries that mostly were about Virgil and what they'd do when they were together again. In tiny, cramped handwriting was a detailed recollection of everything Patton could remember that Virgil told him about where he lived—which wasn't much. It was hard to hold on to any memories from there. His therapist said it had to do with trauma memories being stored incorrectly, and said he might have flashbacks about it. So far, none had happened, but sometimes he wished one would—just so he could see Virgil again.

He wasn't good at drawing, but here and there in his notebook were vague sketches of Virgil. Some days, Patton woke up not sure what he looked like. He couldn't forget him. Patton would never forgive himself if he forgot the lovely mistiness of Virgil's eyes, the way his hair fell into his mouth and made him sputter, the stark paleness of his face against his black hoodie. . . .

Patton wrapped the hoodie around himself. He needed to think about something else, or else he'd start crying again. Crying made his head and ears hurt, which his doctor said would probably always be the case. So he mostly did his best to not cry, ever.

Patton cast his mind around for something new to think about, and landed on the trip to the library several weeks ago. The trip wasn't . . . optimal?

No. The trip sucked.

Father wouldn't let go of him, which just made him feel like a toddler having to be guided around. It was bright, and had a lot of people, and was a little startling, but Patton was sure he could have handled it. Why didn't Father trust him?

It wasn't just that. Father made him go to bed at a specific time every night, wouldn't let him have any say in what he ate, wouldn't even let him pick what to watch on the TV. It was . . . it was stupid! It was awful, it was embarrassing, it was demeaning! It made Patton feel worthless, like he wasn't even a proper member of society! He wasn't a boy anymore, he had even had a job back at the Haven, he wasn't helpless!

Maybe soon, with all that he'd been learning, he could prove to Father that he was capable. And if Father wouldn't believe him, well . . . Patton would have to make him.

Again, that anger was right at the surface, ready to spill out into the air. At least he had the book.

-

Somehow, Logan had let Remus convince him that he didn't need to go to every therapy appointment with Patton, so Logan was at home alone. For the first time in months. He was exhausted, but he did not have time to sleep.

Patton was hiding something. Logan was undeniably certain of it. And when Patton hid something, he hid it under his bed.

Logan didn't get up immediately. This was a matter of privacy, after all. He understood that he was likely being a little too restricting with his son, but who could blame him? He'd almost lost him. So if Patton was hiding something, it was likely best to know what it was. Patton didn't seem to realize the amount of danger he was in. It wasn't his fault, he was just a child. Children weren't supposed to worry about this sort of thing, it was their parents' jobs to care for them. So, naturally, he had to make sure that whatever Patton was hiding wasn't going to bring harm in some way. If it was, he could gently confront him about it, and explain why it was not acceptable.

With that plan in mind, Logan stood from his desk and made his way to Patton's room. His door was always open, even when he was inside—it made sense, all things considered.

The room still had almost precisely the same setup as Logan had put together, down to the making of the bed. He'd told Patton that he was allowed to customize his room and ask for personal items, but so far he had done neither of those things. The only difference was that the small closet now had a few more pieces of clothing in it.

Logan bent to his hands and knees beside the bed and peered beneath. Sure enough, there were items underneath the boy's bed: a battered blue notebook, the singular book that he had wanted from the library last month, the jacket that had belonged to the other other prisoner. Logan reached for the notebook, grunting when his back popped.

He pulled himself onto Patton's bed to open it. It was confusing, at first, some jokes in his son's handwriting, rather poor sketches of an unfamiliar face. Then. . . .

Oh.

That—that was bad.

Logan took a few deep breaths, then flipped another page, then another. More of the same. This wasn't good. This was not good at all.

These diagrams and instructions, clearly for lip-reading? These would get Patton taken away from him. These would hurt him. These would make Patton want to leave the safety of home.

These were dangerous.

~

Taglist: @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck @larkiaquail

[teacupfulofstarshine]

when you look at me with those eyes (i’m speechless)

summary: virgil finally manages to ask out the pretty enby in his class, just in time for his father's epic gala event. sadly, neither of them would know fashion if it bit them in the ass. luckily, they both have friends to help them out. 

(OR: almost 3k words of analogical being useless fluffy gays)

wordcount: 2934

ships: romantic analogical, background romantic roceit, background queerplatonic intruality, background romantic remile

cw: cursing 

read it on ao3!! 

“So, uh, wh - what do you say?” 

Logan looks up from their desk, homework long forgotten. Their left hand is stretched out to cover the little doodle they’d been doing of the back of Virgil’s head, and now Virgil himself is standing in front of them, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly and looking anywhere except at Logan. He’s still wearing that patchwork purple plaid hoodie, and for some reason the only thing Logan can think of is that it’s definitely a violation of their school uniform. 

Virgil’s eyes skitter back to their face, skipping from their shoulder to their chest to their neck to their cheek. Their eyes meet for a moment, Virgil’s illuminated by the afternoon sunshine pouring in, and Logan forgets how to breathe. Virgil’s pink face gets even pinker, and his eyes settle on a point fixed above Logan’s shoulder. 

“Are you just gonna stare at me?” he snaps. “If you’re gonna reject me, just -”

“No!” Logan blurts. Virgil’s shoulders jump up to his ears, and Logan stands so fast their chair falls over behind them. “I - I mean - I’m not rejecting you, I - um - yes! Yes, I - I’d love to! That is to say - I - uh -” 

Virgil laughs a little, reaching out and tucking a stray curl of Logan’s hair behind their ear. They hadn’t even noticed that wisps had started escaping their high ponytail, but Virgil just smiles at them. “Cool,” he says. 

“Yes,” Logan breathes. “It - it is, objectively, quite ‘cool’.” 

“The event’s on Saturday night.” Virgil’s fingers tuck their hair behind their ear, gently tracing down the curve of their neck and sliding up to touch their jaw. “Pick you up around six PM or so?” 

Logan swallows, and they’re sure Virgil can hear it but he gives no indication if he did. “That - that sounds optimal.” They cringe inwardly - optimal? What the hell? - but Virgil just laughs and slides his hand up to cup their cheek. 

“You keep busting out all those smart-person words and I’m gonna have to kiss you before I buy you dinner, and that’s not very nice of me.” His hand drops from Logan’s face, and it takes all their willpower not to scream for him to put it back. He gently picks up their hand, lifting it to his bitten-raw lips and gently pressing a kiss to the back. “That’ll have to hold you over until then.” 

He turns and saunters away, and Logan grips the edge of their desk. They almost sit down on the chair they’d knocked over, catching themselves at the last second. Looking around the empty classroom, they catch sight of themselves reflected in the windows. They’d opted for a mixture of the uniforms today, wearing the boys’ shirt, vest, and tie over the girls’ skirt, knee-high stockings, and shoes. Their hair is tightly tied back with a plain hair tie, no ribbon, only one curl out of place where Virgil had tucked it behind their ear. 

They don’t typically dress themselves for much other than school (uniform), work (uniform), or home (casual clothing). They have no idea what they should wear for a date. Their phone buzzes on the desk, and they snatch it up quickly, flipping it open to see a message from Virgil. 

(They’d forgotten he had their number, from that project they did together last month.) 

You have: One! New message! 

FROM: Virgil 

hey, forgot to tell u - this gala is like, a bfd for my dads’ company, so dress up! like its prom or smthn, or a wedding 

Logan exhales, gathering up their school things and shoving them into their bag with an uncharacteristic haphazardness. This is going to require . . . outside intervention.

(Meanwhile, a few doors down, Virgil slams the door to his own classroom, shoves his face into his hands, and lets out the quietest feral screech he can manage. Derek, seated on the teacher’s desk with Roman pulled up between his legs, raises a single eyebrow.

“Is that a screech of success or a screech of failure, Virgil?”)

*~*~*~*~*

“What does one wear on a ‘fancy date’? I have never been to a wedding or a prom, let alone a gala! I do not own anything fancy!” Logan paces around their bedroom, hair hanging loose around their shoulders. Patton is on his back, hanging upside-down off of their bed and flipping through some sort of guitar catalog. Remus is curled up in Logan’s desk chair with some sort of slime in his hand. “Remus, if you get slime on my belongings I will end you.” 

Remus grins, looking deranged, and Logan resists the childish urge to throw something at him. 

“Don’t sweat it, Lo-Lo!” Patton says. “I’ve got a ton of pretty clothes in my room, you can borrow something from me! We’re still the same size, right?” 

“I assume so,” Logan says, “but what if I do not look right in your clothing? Our styles are vastly different, I would not wish to present a false impression of myself to him, I -”

“You worry too much!” Remus says. “Virge asked you out even though you’re a workaholic disaster who wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘relax’ if it bit him in the -”

“Remus!” Patton scolds, throwing one of Logan’s decorative constellation pillows at him. Remus bats it away with his foot. 

“Please do not throw things around,” Logan says tiredly. “Particularly my things.” 

“Sorry, Lo!” Remus does not apologize, but he does put the slime he’s been playing with back into its little plastic container. 

“Well, actually,” Patton says, flipping over onto his tummy, “it just so happens that I’ve been waiting for exactly this moment.” Logan looks at their twin in confusion. “I knew that eventually, there was gonna come a day where you would look at somebody and want to go on a date with them, whether it be a simple movie or a fancy date like this one, and you were gonna call me in here - didn’t know Remus would be here too, but he’s not unwelcome -”

“Thank you?” 

“- and you’d pace around and panic and go, ‘Patton! I don’t have anything optimal for this date, and our personal styles are so vastly different! What ever is there to be done?’” Patton flings one hand dramatically across his forehead like a Victorian woman fainting onto a couch. Logan raises one eyebrow. 

“So! I came up with the perfect solution! I’ve been secretly acquiring outfits for you! Stuff that you could wear for a variety of situations that you wouldn’t ever think of! We can mix and match to find something you like! Oh, and I also have a ton of unopened hypoallergenic makeup in a box in my closet!” 

Logan stares at him, blinking and trying to process everything Patton’s just told them. “You . .. you really did all that, for . . . for me?” 

“Yeah, of course I did! You’re my twin, Lo. I love you.” Patton smiles, bright and open and honest, and Logan blinks again, and suddenly their cheeks are wet. 

“Are you fucking crying because Patton is a considerate brother?!” Remus cackles. Logan whirls around, hiding their face and wiping at it frantically. “Oh my god, you are, I fucking called it, Roman owes me twenty bucks!” 

“You bet on this?” Patton asks, disapproving. Logan laughs a little, turning around to hug their twin. They can’t quite bring themselves to care about Remus’s gambling right now. 

*~*~*~*~*

“Why are you bitching?” Roman asks, pulling Derek’s hand up to his face. He’d forgotten his saline solution at his own house, so he’s wearing his old red glasses, bangs pulled up in a shitty unicorn-horn ponytail as he squints at Derek’s nails. Derek holds a book up with his free hand. “You managed to get them to go out with you, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, but I was awkward as fuck about it, Roman!” Virgil complains. He considers throwing something at Roman, or shoving a pillow over his face and screaming (again), but the deep indigo-purple polish on their fingernails is still drying. “I touched their hair, they probably think I’m a fucking creep!” 

“As someone with that exact reputation,” Derek says, “I highly doubt they would have agreed to accompany you on a date if they shared your sentiments about yourself.” 

“Yeah, but -”

“Lighten up a little, man,” Roman says, carefully stroking the yellow brush over Derek’s index nail. “You’re totally fucking with the vibe of the chill session.”

“What do you want me to do?! I told them to dress fancy cause we’re going somewhere nice, like I have any idea how to dress other than ‘crawled out of a dumpster and sewed together some punk band’s leftovers’!” 

“Why did you think you invited me?” Roman says haughtily. He’s imitating some YouTube video they’d watched earlier. “I’m the king of style!” 

“You’re the king of something,” Virgil mutters. 

“No, seriously, I’m gonna help you!” Roman says. “I’m sure you have something that looks half-decent buried in your closet, and I am nothing if not an expert in bringing things out of the closet.” Derek’s cheeks blush faintly pink, but he doesn’t say anything. “And Der here is amazing with makeup -”

“I wouldn’t say experience with stage makeup and covering my port wine stain makes me amazing or anything,” Derek begins. 

“Well I would, so shut the fuck up,” Roman says smoothly. Derek rolls his eyes and huffs fondly. “Seriously, Vee, did you really think we were gonna egg you on to ask the pretty nerd out for this long and then leave you high and dry when the time came to deliver the goods?” 

Virgil exhales, bringing his hands up to his face to examine his nails. “I think they’re dry . . .”

“Nice! Get over here, once I’m done with Derek’s base color I’m putting sparkles on you.”

“What? Why?” 

“Because it’s my house and I get to choose the bonding activity, god damn it.” 

*~*~*~*~*

“No.” 

“What do you mean, no?” Logan says, pulling their hair up into their traditional high ponytail. “What else am I supposed to do with it? I hate leaving it down, it feels bad on my neck -”

“I know,” Patton says, “but you can’t just put it in the same old ponytail you always do! This is a fancy gala event, you have to be fancy! ” 

“What else am I supposed to do with my hair?” 

“You will not do anything. I will do your hair,” Patton says firmly. “And by I, I mean Remus, because I’m not good at hair.” 

“Remus is not putting his hands, which have been god only knows where, in my clean hair.” 

“Rude!” Remus says. “I washed them three times today! You can inspect them if you want, I promise they’re clean!” Logan squints at his hands critically before sighing and settling into the chair in front of Patton’s vanity. 

“Very well.” 

Remus brushes through their hair and then combs it, carefully working through the knots while doing his best to preserve their natural curl. He separates two small wings and pins them out of the way before pulling the rest of Logan’s long curls into a mid-height ponytail and braiding it with surprisingly delicate fingers. He carefully twists the long braid up into a bun at the nape of Logan’s neck and pins it there with a gleaming silver hairpin tipped with a shining eight-point star with a dark blue jewel set in its center. 

Carefully, Remus unpins the locks of hair he’d set aside and braids them as well, weaving them into a crown of braids on Logan’s head and cleverly hiding the ends by pinning them into the braided bun. Finally, he pins back a few stray wispy curls with silver bobby pins that have star-shaped cubic zirconium on the ends. “Take a look!” 

Logan has had their eyes closed the entire time, quietly stimming with their hands. They open them slowly, looking in the mirror and tilting their head back and forth to see all of the work Remus has done. “Oh,” they say softly. “I love it, Remus. I look beautiful.” 

“You always look beautiful,” Remus says. “I’d ruffle your hair if I hadn’t spent so much time making it look decent.” Logan leans back, gently pressing their cheek against his shoulder. Remus huffs and mutters something about “gross affectionate shit,” but he still lets them do it. 

Patton breaks out the makeup after that, spinning the stool around so that Logan can’t see their own face in the mirror. “Alright, Lo! Time to accentuate your pretty face!” 

“That was a surprisingly accurate use of the word accentuate.” 

Patton just shrugs and grins at them. “I know big words!” 

*~*~*~*~*

“You look fine,” Roman says, pulling a strip of fabric around Virgil’s throat and beginning to knot it into a bowtie. Virgil can’t stop himself from looking over himself in the mirror one more time - dark black dress pants, a silver dress shirt, a deep purple vest that matches the polish on his nails, black and purple eyeshadow accompanied by dark red lipstick and sharp cheekbone contour courtesy of Derek. Roman pulls the purple-and-silver striped fabric of his bowtie into the final bow, and he smiles. 

“Don’t worry, Virge. I know you’re worried, but you look fine.” 

“You don’t look like a vampire at all,” Derek adds. Virgil hisses at him. “That is certainly going to help that image.” 

“Seriously,” Roman says, “don’t worry about my stupid boyfriend. Logan agreed to go out with you, and I’m sure they’re going to find you absolutely stunning.” 

Virgil rubs the back of his neck, blushing, because he knows that if he touches the hair Derek and Roman had combed and gelled and styled and wrestled with for the past thirty minutes they will collectively murder him without a second thought. Derek smiles, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Vee. Seriously. I know I mock you a lot, but you really do look good. It’s gonna be okay.” 

Virgil still feels nervous when he steps out of his car in front of the address Logan had given him. The lights are bright and cheerful, and when he knocks on the front door with his free hand, the door swings open eagerly. “Hello!” the man says cheerily. He’s wearing a pink tie and a brown cardigan, and he looks like Virgil expects Patton to in a few decades. “You must be Virgil!” 

“Uh, um, y-yes sir!” Virgil yelps. 

“Oh, you look precious! Remy, dearest, Logan’s date is here!” 

“Cool, babes,” a voice floats in from the kitchen. “I’ll take over the soup.” 

“Come on in! You can call me Emile, Lo is upstairs with Patton and Remus getting ready! Just wait here in the foyer, I’ll go up there and get them!” Emile hurries off up the stairs, and Virgil fidgets nervously with the flowers in his hand.

Patton all but slides down the bannister, grinning. “Are those for Lo?” 

“Y - yeah?”

“I’ll go get a vase out of the kitchen so they can put them in water before you two go!” Virgil pulls a single star-shaped lily bloom from the bouquet and spins it between his thumb and middle fingers. Emile comes hurrying down the stairs with a camera, sets himself up at the foot of the stairs, and shouts for Remus. 

“Finally,” Logan huffs, and then a door creaks open and shuffled footsteps approach the top of the stairs and then Virgil promptly forgets how to breathe. 

They look gorgeous. 

They have a crown of braids leading to a braided bun, studded with jewels that gleam like stars and a larger star pinning the bun back. They’re wearing the most beautiful dress Virgil has ever seen; the top is black, high-necked, and form-fitting, with short sleeves that are see-through ruffles of black gauzy material. The sleeves and the bodice are covered in sparkling silver rhinestones that look like stars in the night sky. There’s a silver band wrapped around their waist, and the skirt is made of layers of loose folds of fabric. The front comes down to their knees and the back comes down to their mid-calves, and the pattern is a soft blue-pink-purple galaxy color scheme. They have simple dark blue ballet flats on their feet, and as they get closer, what little breath Virgil had in his lungs is gone. 

Someone with experience has clearly done Logan’s makeup. Their eyes are coated in shimmery dark-blue-and-silver eyeshadow, eyes lined with soft smudged pencil and popping out of their face, freckles somehow still visible under the makeup. Their lips are glossy and pink and look so deliciously kissable that Virgil can barely restrain himself. 

“You look wonderful,” the vision in front of him says. 

“You - I - um - good!” Virgil stammers. Logan blushes, and Virgil thrusts the bouquet at them. “These - for you!” 

“Oh!” Logan takes the bouquet and smiles, and Virgil nearly passes out. “They’re beautiful! I -”

“I have a vase for you!” Patton chirps, hurrying in to take the bouquet and plop it into a vase. “I’ll leave it in your room!” Logan smiles, and Virgil reaches up to carefully tuck the lily behind their ear, into the carefully woven braids.

“You look beautiful,” he says honestly. “You’re the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life.” Logan flushes, smiling. 

“It makes sense that you would think that, since you cannot see yourself.” 

(Years later, at their wedding, Patton will tearfully and proudly recall how Logan and Virgil had been fifteen minutes late to the gala because Logan’s compliment had caused Virgil to faint from sheer gay joy.) 

[logical-little-lies]

Your Boyfriend’s Cute- Little Vlogs (pt.2)

a/n: I love the fact that this is already receiving support on tumblr and here, and I posted the first chapter like less than twenty four hours ago! it's giving me lots n lots of motivation to brainstorm the plot to this story. just so yk, it's boutta move FAST (aka: lots of timeskips).

chapter summary: Virgil and Roman go to Patton's house for the first time, and Virgil starts to realize why Roman has a crush on Logan. Also, Patton and Virgil film a video for Patton's channel.

--

Virgil exited the Hot Topic with an extremely positive attitude. He had hit send on a list of things he wanted Roman to get for him, and he was ready to meet Patton. The mall was an outdoor mall, so he quickly scanned the 'workers only' parking spots for Logan. He spotted him, in a dark blue t-shirt that read 'Eldenridge Bookshop' with a little book logo on it. Virgil caught himself admiring Logan's body and face from afar, before snapping out of his (slightly gay) daze. He waved, catching his attention. Logan smiled warmly, and Virgil crossed the parking lot.

"Hello Virgil," Logan held his hand out, and Virgil shook it lightly.

"Very professional," he teased, smiling to show that he was just playing. Roman was right. This man was definitely cute. Logan chuckled.

"Yeah, that's what Patton said," Logan opened the door to the passenger seat on his car, motioning for him to get in. Virgil climbed into the vehicle, the door closing behind him.

Logan walked around the back of the car, getting in on the drivers side. "Buckle your seatbelt, honey," Logan instructed, following the directions himself before starting the car. Virgil did as he said without question, willing himself to stop blushing at the casual use of the word 'honey'.

"How far do you live?"  Virgil questioned after a few moments of silence. Logan had pulled out of the parking spot, making his way to the exit of the outdoor mall.

"About ten minutes. Roman wanted to be there when you met Patton, but no doubt, we'll beat him there. Patton's waiting at home,so I'll just record it, yeah?"

Virgil nodded at Logan's words. He had a very caregivery tone, in a stern, but soft way. He could understand why Patton liked him as a caregiver, and why Roman had a crush on him. "Sounds good to me," Virgil smiled.

"So, how was work?" Logan turned onto the main road, tapping his finger against the steering wheel.

"Good, just another day of selling twenty one pilots merch to twelve year old wanna-be emos," Virgil shrugged, causing Logan to laugh lightly.

"I'm guess you used to be one of those emo kids when you were younger?"

"Bitch, I still am. The only difference is that I'm technically an adult."

"Language!" he scolded lightly, speaking in a playful tone.

There was a few beats of silence, Virgil taking the opportunity to look out the window and admire the beautiful weather. "Patton's very excited to see you, he has so many ideas for stuff to do with you."

Logan and Virgil continued on the conversation, distracting Virgil from his excitement for the time being. Suddenly, Logan turned into a neighborhood, and onto a small side street. The two-floored yellow house Virgil saw in many videos was at the end. There were flowers in the front yard. Patton sat on the front porch, and he jumped up when Logan entered the driveway.

"You stay here until I motion you out, I want to make sure I catch this on video," Logan put the car in park, pulling his phone out of his pocket and getting out of the car. Patton awkwardly stood by the door of his house, Logan holding up his phone. Virgil unbuckled, excitedly jumping out of the car when Logan made the motion.

Virgil almost tackled Patton to the ground when he hugged him, jumping into his arms. Right then was when Roman pulled into the driveway behind Logan's car. "I can't believe this, you're actually...here, i-it's crazy."

"I know kiddo, I'm happy to see you too."

Patton held Virgil in a tight hug for at least a minute straight, running his fingers through his hair. Patton was slightly chubby,wearing a very soft light blue sweater. Therefore, he was very cuddleable. Roman and Logan made sure not to interrupt their moment, not speaking until they finally pulled away.

"I'm so happy right now, you have no idea," Virgil smiled, turning and approaching Roman, hugging him.

"Yeah, and this little emo here doesn't get this excited unless he regresses. He tries to keep up his angsty  exterior, but he's really just soft."

Virgil playfully glared at him, pretending to be mad at him for the silly teasing. "Come inside," Patton was quick to open his door, welcoming the couple into his home.

"Like I say whenever we video chat, your house is nice as hell," Virgil admired the home.

"Yep. There's so many rooms that we have a normal bedroom, the little bedroom that you see in most of my videos, and a set of extra rooms. Seriously, this place is perfect," Logan sat down on the couch as Patton spoke. Patton disappeared, going up the stairs.

"Where's he going?" Roman pondered, sitting on the couch near Logan.

"Probably to grab the vlogging camera from the little bedroom," Logan replied as Virgil sat down next to his boyfriend. Virgil could've sworn he caught Logan's eyes lingering on Roman before he spoke again.

"Uh, Roman, how are you?" he stumbled upon his words lightly.

"Good," Roman smiled. Virgil saw Patton stop at the bottom of the steps, holding a small camera.

"Logan, is it okay if me and Virgil hang out upstairs? You guys can do whatever you want down here..find some common interests or something."

Logan gave Patton a look Virgil didn't get the chance to decode, automatically fixing his face when Roman looked at him. "That sounds good to me. I get that you guys have known each other forever, and I understand if you wanna spend some time alone," Roman smiled at Patton softly.

Patton came over, grabbing Virgil's hand and pulling him up. He didn't let go, leading him up the stairs. Neither of them said anything until they were in Patton's little room. "First of all," Patton closed the door behind him, moving to pull his tripod out of the corner of the room, "Your boyfriend is cute as hell. Like I knew that before but seeing him in person just confirmed it."

Virgil laughed, "We're all so gay, I swear to god. Your boyfriend is cute too, at least Roman thinks so."

"Roman's poly right? Logan and I are...kind of why I left Logan down there, he's lowkey been crushing on Roman since forever," Patton motioned Virgil over, patting a spot on the edge of the bed, facing the tripod he had set up. Virgil took his spot, watching Patton attach the camera to the setup.

"Yeah, Roman's polyamorous. And that's funny, because Roman has a crush on Logan too," Virgil revealed. The two of them looked at each other and did a fangirl-ish squeal that only best friends could successfully do in sync.

"So, what are we doing for the channel?" Virgil questioned, motioning towards the camera.

"I figured we could just talk about like, how we became friends and stuff. This how thing feels unreal, and I kinda want a video to look back on so I remember how I felt during all this."

Virgil quickly agreed, and without a word, Patton started the camera.

"Hey Kiddos, welcome to my channel: eat a second cookie! Today, I have my friend with me. I've talked about him on my channel before, but this is the first time I actually have him here in person. Please welcome, Virgil!" Patton spoke in an enthusiastic voice, motioning towards Virgil, who waved awkwardly. There was a beat of silence before Patton nudged him.

"Here's where you plug your tumblr and stuff," Patton instructed, breaking the silence.

"Oh," Virgil laughed at himself, "Uh, follow me at anxiousbabey on everything."

Just like that, the two filmed an unscripted video, talking about the first time they talked, telling quite a few stories. It all lead up to the end of the recording, where they talked about how they met.

"Now that we know we live so close, hopefully he'll be on my channel lots n lots. Right, Virge?"

Virgil giggled, nodding a bit. "I hope so! I'm really glad we realized this, I'm so happy y'all have absolutely no idea!"

"Well, I guess that's all for today kiddos! Bye princes, princesses, and enby royalty, please check out my tumblr and instagram, all under eat-a-second-cookie!" Patton held out the word 'cookie' so that his statement rhymed. He finished closing out the video, turning off the camera.

"Y'know, I've been waiting for the day we'd get to finally film a video together."

There was a second of silence before Virgil engulfed him into a hug. "I feel like my life was good before..and now it's perfect. I'm so glad this happened," Virgil mumbled.

"Let's go check on my nerd and your boyfriend," Patton caused Virgil to laugh, taking his hand softly and leading him down the stairs. Virgil didn't know why this act of affection made him blush, because he knew Patton was just generally affectionate, but his cheeks were definitely burning.

"Hey, Vee," Roman looked up from the laptop him and Logan were watching something on.

"Did you guys film anything?" Logan questioned softly, pressing the spacebar on the laptop and closing it.

"Yeah, just a video about like our friendship," Patton shrugged, taking his spot next to Logan. Logan automatically wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

"That's surely gonna be an adorable video," Logan praised, and Patton smiled lightly. "So, you guys are welcome to stay for dinner, or even spend the night if you want to."

Patton nodded in agreement and excitement with Logan's statement. "Ro!" Virgil tapped his shoulder lightly, tilting his head, "Stay pleasee?"

"Is that your little voice I hear?" Roman teased, causing Virgil to pout lightly, shaking his head.

"Awe! I think it is," Patton cooed, "But, can you guys stay, pleasee?"

"I don't know," Roman sighed, "Virgil has work tomorrow."

"Okay? And I can give him a ride in the morning, seriously, you're welcome to spend the night."

Virgil gave puppy dog eyes, pouting to convince his carer. "Stop with the pouty face, I was gonna say yes anyways," he sighed, causing Virgil and Patton to cheer.

That night was gonna be fun.

A/N: There's gonna be a timeskip, like a one-month type gap, where the four leave the awkward stage and they're all kind of close. I don't wanna write all that out and I WANNA GET TO THE GOOD PART.

Tag list: @stimmingsides @smollilsanderssides @novacloudcat @analogical-agere @fairyhuman2000 @aphandgflover @softastarlight @littlesapphygem @softflowerinmyheart 

please ask/reach out if you wanna be added to the tag list

[alarajrogers]

Advice to enbies and maybe others

I’m Old by the standards of this website -- 50. And I’m here to tell you that your sense of personal gender can change multiple times in a lifetime, and it’s okay if it does.

When I was a little kid, I was super girly and gender-conforming. I mean, I liked to run and climb trees and play, but I did dolls and tea parties and I didn’t want to wear pants because they were for boys. Then puberty hit, and while I continued to consider myself female because back in those days the concept of being non-binary without being literally intersex was just not on most people’s radar, if we’d had the framework then that we have now, I’d have absolutely considered myself non-binary. Probably something like a demigirl where my other gender was not masculine but neuter; I never thought of myself as male, just “not really female.”

As a young adult, I wore t-shirts and turtlenecks and sweaters and pants. Nothing with frills or lace, never a dress. No makeup, no jewelry, no high heels... but also, my aesthetic sense was firmly rooted in genderlessness. Grow vegetables, not flowers because they’re useless, existing only to be pretty, and not herbs because only foodies who care about cooking like my mom care about that stuff. Don’t bother with having things in pretty colors or designs, as long as they’re functional. My aesthetic was essentially Nerd.

Then I had kids, in my 30′s, and I changed again.

Now I grow flowers. I’m learning to sew and I make handbags and plush toys. I buy stupid pretty things from JoAnns and then can’t figure out where to put them. I spent a lot of money ten years ago in recovering all my old dolls. More importantly, all of these things come not out of nowhere, but from a feeling of comfort with my female gender, a sense that it’s okay for me to do things that women do again. I’m happy with being Matron and/or Crone in a way I was never happy being Maid.

And I wonder, was my obsession with androgyny and my rejection of anything overtly feminine due to actually being nonbinary, or was it due to a rejection of the role of young adult women as objects for the male gaze? I have never been comfortable being seen as “sexy” even back when I was, but now that I am not, I don’t care who looks at me because I know they’re not undressing me with their eyes. I’m too old and fat and motherly to be anyone’s wet dream, and that’s awesome. Was I rejecting feminine gender because I perceived it as tied to feminine social roles, and the social role of a young woman is so tied into being attractive to men?

Here’s what I’ve come to believe: It doesn’t fucking matter.

I would probably have been more comfortable identifying as a demigirl back in those days, if the concept had been known to me. Nowadays I’m a cis woman. There is no reason to believe that the brain structures that generate our sense of gender can’t change over a lifetime, naturally, though there is obviously no way to force any sort of change. But if an identity makes you more comfortable than a different identity, by all means, take it. And if later that identity doesn’t feel right anymore, it’s okay to change. Even if you fought for years to get people to see you the way you were then, if you’ve changed, it’s okay to be who you’ve become. Even if you feel like you’ve reverted to something you fought against being. It’s okay. People change over their lifetimes.

Some people have a really strong sense of gender and will never change, and once they have a chance to be what they feel themselves to be, they’re solidly fixed on it. That’s okay. Some people have a much weaker sense of gender and maybe it fluctuates over the course of their lifetime. That’s also okay. The whole point to the modern exploration of gender and the analysis that trans people and nonbinary people have been bringing to our understanding is that gender is a self-perception, and people can change who they feel themselves to be across the course of a life.

This is why “transtrending” has never been and cannot be a thing. Exploring your sense of self and trying on different identities is never wrong. People feel like it’s “cringy” because it’s a thing teenagers do and society tells us to hate teenagers and everything they do, but it’s a natural human thing and teenagers and young adults are supposed to be doing it. How boring would we be if we were always the exact same person before puberty started as after it’s finished?

[sometimesiwriteangst]

Again (Chapter 24)

TW: Domestic abuse (parental and relationship), homophobia, anger, flashbacks/panic attacks, nightmares.

In case anybody is interested in a bit of Again.

AO3

“Roman, we’re going to be late, do you have to take all those books?”

Deceit smirks at Logan’s words, the logical man sighing heavily as Roman shoves in another Shakespeare play.

“But I need all of them!”

“Next time, listen to the tutor. That way you’ll know exactly which book to bring, instead of panicking at the last minute,” Logan says bluntly.

Deceit snickers slightly at Roman’s indignant gasp, and shakes his head.

“Just grab the ones most likely to be used, Ro, or we’re going without you,” he teases lightly, “I’ve got philosophy and I really need to be seen as a good student after last year...”

There’s a loud huff, but soon enough Roman is saying goodbye to Virgil and Patton, and running after them, complaining about how mean they are. But Deceit still smiles, feeling at peace with the casual and friendly complaints.

“Doing okay, Mister...um...damn I have no nickname ideas this morning...”

Deceit chuckles and nods.

“I think I am, yeah.”

Dear Me,

Elliot hasn’t spoken to me since the incident, and they’ve changed classes. I don’t know if that’s because of me, because of my ex, or if that’s one and the same reason right now.

I mean, I feel like working against my ex is just causing more and more trouble. And I don’t want trouble...I also don’t want Elliot in trouble. Everything feels like so much more, if that makes sense. And honestly – the irony there – even if it doesn’t make sense, I don’t care. My emotions aren’t here to make sense, they’re here to just be.

And that should be okay.

I think.

Deceit wakes up at 11pm every night, if he manages to fall asleep before then. And then he’s unable to sleep again until 2am. He finds himself breathing deeply, shaking in his bed and trying desperately to calm himself.

“A...B...C...” he keeps it up, slowly going through the alphabet until the initial wave of panic passes, slowly fading in lieu of the slightly less intense anxiety.

He knew perfectly well why this strange night time habit kept up. The memories, the way he was used to being awake at this time...or being woken up…

“It’s fine,” he tells himself, curling up, “I’m safe now. He’s not here. I’m safe.”

Years of lying to himself catch up, and he just can’t believe his own words. And he hates it. He can’t trust himself, and sometimes he still catches himself not trusting others. There’s no winning, it seems. Or perhaps that’s a cognitive distortion caused by sleep deprivation and trauma.

“...it’s okay,” he whispers again, trying his best and tightening his grip on the blanket wrapped around him, “it’s fine...just a couple of hours and we can go back to sleep...”

It was hard. It was always hard. Every night, dealing with the same worries and flashbacks and intrusive thoughts and internal conflict. It was tiring, and yet he still couldn’t sleep.

Not until two am, at the very least.

And then it’s back to the nightmares.

Dear Me,

I hate conflict and hearing people argue. Anger makes me nervous. Logan and Virgil argued who was going to wash the dishes the other day, and I had to go hide in my room for a bit. I don’t think they realised why, thankfully. I don’t like admitting my anxiety over that.

Sometimes I just freeze up. I guess I feel like...if I just stay still and don’t do anything, maybe I’ll be safe. It was usually the safest way to deal with my ex, after all. Just stay still, don’t mess up. If you don’t do anything, you’ll get yelled at but you probably won’t get hit.

Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m doing better! But some of the fears just won’t budge. I guess we can heal the wound, but scars take longer to fade.

Which sucks, not gonna lie. I hate it.

“I hate feeling angry at him,” Deceit admits to Dr Picani, “I feel like I’m supposed to forgive him and just...move on with my life. But it’s hard, and he’s just...walked back into my life. Even if I don’t see him a lot, he’s there...you know?”

Deceit looks down at his lap, fidgeting with his hands, picking at his nails. Maybe he should ask Remy to do his nails, the enby was great and had so many colours. Maybe black. Or yellow. Or both…

He sighs, trying to keep his mind on track in time to hear Dr Picani.

“You don’t have to forgive him,” Dr Picani replies gently, “you’re allowed to feel angry.”

Angry. The word, the feeling, it runs through him like a jolt of electricity. All the times he was denied the chance to be angry, to fight back, to argue that his treatment was wrong. All the times his boyfriend then lashed back out in anger, snapping and shouting and hurting him.

Anger was bad, surely. He didn’t want to be angry. He didn’t want to risk being like him.

“Of course I have to forgive him,” mutters Deceit, folding his arms, “that’s what you do, right? The narrative is always forgiveness, moving on and all that shit...but I don’t feel...able to.”

Forgive and forget – he was so fed up of the narrative that forgiveness was the end goal. He didn’t want to forgive him. He didn’t want to pretend he could ignore or get over or be okay or whatever else forgiveness was meant to be. A lack of anger perhaps? How could he not feel angry at his treatment?

“And that’s okay,” Dr Picani insists, “your feelings are valid.”

Deceit blinks, jerking his head up to stare at the counsellor, who smiles warmly. There was something nice about that sentiment. He just wasn’t sure how much he believed that right now.

“...I feel fixated. How is that...”valid”? It’s like an obsession, Picani. I feel stuck in these feelings, and I can’t get myself free...”

Deceit breathes deeply, fiddling with his nails again. However calm he was, he inevitably ended up feeling like he was being overdramatic, especially in these sessions.

“I...I know I’m getting better,” he adds softly, “I’m being more social, and I’m doing the things I need to do to help stay...in the present. But sometimes I feel like I’m not getting better...fast enough, you know? I’m sure I’ve been in recovery for far too long.”

He frowns when Dr Picani chuckles slightly, but the counsellor simply shakes his head.

“There’s no such thing as too long,” the counsellor reassures him, “everyone heals at different rates, Dee. You don’t need to worry about time. You’re healing at your own pace, and that’s exactly how it should be.”

Deceit groans, because he knows that Dr Picani is right. Healing was slow and tiring and took so much time and energy. Sometimes he just hated having to acknowledge it.

“It’s going to be worth it, right?” he asks, trying to pretend the question wasn’t cutting deep.

“It will be,” Dr Picani reassures him again, “it’s going to be okay, and it’s going to be worth it.”

And so Deceit smiles, just slightly.

“Thank you.”

Dear Me,

So apparently there’s such a thing in abused children, or children from dysfunctional families, called “toxic family roles”. People tend to fall into different roles, like “the troublemaker” or “the lost child”. I was trying to see if there’s anything similar for domestic abuse survivors.

And wow, can we acknowledge that I just referred to myself as a domestic abuse survivor?

Deceit throws his arms around Virgil from behind, the typically anxious boy not even blinking, simply continuing to work.

“Hey Dee,” Virgil says, not looking up, “you good?”

“...yeah, actually...been practising those breathing exercises you do...they’re helping more now.”

Virgil looks up and smiles, relaxing Deceit a bit. “That’s good. I told you, you gotta practice these things to get the most out of them.”

Deceit nods, humming to himself as Virgil goes back to working, then lets go, instead coming around to sit beside him. It wasn’t that long ago that he would have hated admitting Virgil was right. That anyone was right. Sometimes admitting people were right felt like vulnerability, which was something Deceit hated, even as he tried not to.

“Hey, Virgil, can I ask you a sensitive question?” he asks finally, breaking the pesudo-silence.

(It wasn’t really silent, Virgil was a loud writer. Scratch scratch scratch.)

Virgil closes his book, putting it down before breathing deeply and nodding.

“Sure. I, uh, I guess so...go for it.”

“I can-”

“Go for it, seriously.”

Deceit still hesitates before asking, and blurts it out like Virgil so often did - “how did you deal with your parents? Did they try to put themselves back into your life?”

He internally curses himself for a moment for asking what he was actually wondering. He just needed advice from someone else, someone who had been through similar things.

“I mean...kind of. It took me a while to find a way to move out...things were rough in the meantime...” Virgil takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “They...called me a lot of names. My mum hit me a lot. My dad kept threatening to kick me out. It wasn’t a good time in my life.”

“I...I’m sorry...”

Deceit is sorry for asking. And sorry for messing up and letting his ex take his phone. No, no, that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. But he still felt bad, and was still sorry for it.

“It’s fine...I mean, it is now. I moved out as soon as I could, which was in my Junior year, towards the end. Got a job cleaning the local hospital, found a friend to move out to...you remember Kai, right?”

Deceit thinks for a moment. “...The skateboarder who claimed he didn’t play games competitively cause he was embarrassed?” he asks, and Virgil nods.

“Yeah. He was a good guy...ended up going to freaking Harvard. I think he’s working on being a games developer, the nerd...” Virgil smiles fondly before sighing. “My parents pestered us a lot. A lot of phone calls, asking if I was there. A lot of threats. One time they turned up and we had to call the police.”

“That’s awful...” Deceit murmurs, looking down. “You...You’re really brave...ugh no, I hate that phrase...”

Virgil just chuckles though, shaking his head.

“It’s fine, I know what you mean. But, um...in the end, I got a restraining order and basically disowned myself. Uh, emancipated. It was a scary process.”

Deceit tilts his head, a bit confused. “Emancipated? ...restraining order? You can do that?”

He still can’t quite believe that he can ask that sort of question without being mocked and laughed at. The words of his ex run through his head, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, hard to think. The thoughts of how stupid he is run through his head. He can hear his ex’s voice, loud and harsh in his ears. He can feel the sting of the inevitable slap.

No! No, we can handle this – breathe – breathe deep, we can do this!

He’s certain that Virgil is there, that Virgil is concerned or trying to help, but he just can’t register it. It’s too much, or too little, or something.

No...no, we have to do this. We can do this.

He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to hold it in, and then slowly releases it. He can’t remember the number of seconds it’s meant to be, not right now. But he still breathes, deep and slow. Holds it then lets it go. He forces himself into a rhythm.

It’s not a quick fix.

But slowly, the sting fades, his thoughts settle, just a little, and his ex’s voice becomes softer, harder to hear. And then he can feel Virgil’s hands gently resting on his shoulders, can hear his voice, firm and yet calm and comforting. There’s no pressure, just gentle reassurance that he’s safe and will be okay.

“I...I’m sorry,” he mumbles, breathing in slowly, “...I didn’t mean to...I mean...ugh...”

“It’s okay...how are you feeling?” Virgil rubs his back gently.

Deceit isn’t actually sure, and hesitates over his response. The urge to just lie was a bit too much. But he was trying, so hard, to tell the truth. He didn’t want to fall back into old habits. Who knew what other old habits he could fall into that way? He didn’t want to risk it.

“...I’m not sure. Okay, I think. I think I can manage...”

Virgil helps him back up onto the sofa – when had he fallen off? Deceit hated being so unaware of these things.

Virgil holds Deceit close, gently reassuring him with soft words, continuing until Deceit relaxes fully, the wave of self doubt and fear finally passing.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, “...I appreciate your help...”

“It’s no-”

The door swings open all of a sudden, causing both to jump as Logan comes running in, excitedly waving a letter.

“I got the medical internship!”

And like that the mood becomes better, excited, with Virgil and Deceit making sure to congratulate him as much as possible.

He deserved it.

Dear Me,

I think the five stages of grief apply to abusive relationships, sometimes. The denial that there is or was a problem. Then there’s the depression, and the anger...the bargaining I guess is more within the relationship once you do the denial part.

Alright, I suppose it’s more denial then bargaining then depression then anger.

I think for me at least, I’m finally understanding the damage he did. The damage he chose to do. And I’m finally getting angry over it. I hate it, I don’t want to be angry, but I didn’t deserve that. Whatever he said, I deserved better.

I’m just afraid of anger, including my own.

Deceit has to take a deep breath sometimes. It was getting easier to feel anger. Not anger at anyone, really. Just a deep, underlying anger about how he was treated. Anger at his ex-boyfriend for ruining so many years of his life, perhaps. All he knew was that sometimes it burned.

He breathes deeply as he prepares to enter his philosophy class. He was okay. He could do this. He just had to breathe. Count to ten, take a nice deep breath, and relax his muscles. He could do this. He could be calm, and he could control himself.

His anger at his ex and his abuse still burned, lingering like a fog around his mind, but he could sit and focus on the debate without getting angry and storming out. And he considered that to be an improvement, so he was happy.

After the class, his professor keeps him behind.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks nervously.

“Not at all!” the professor smiles, “you’re attending the law programme after this year, correct?”

Of course, Deceit nods, biting his lip. Surely the professor was going to tell him to give up? To quit, and not even try to do it?

“Well, I have an opportunity for a part time job in a law firm. It’s only a receptionist, don’t get me wrong, but they give frequent opportunities for internships and experience to law students that work for them. I think you should apply. You’d be good at it.”

Deceit blinks, and then frowns. He didn’t trust this.

“Why? Why me?”

To his surprise, the teacher doesn’t react as if caught out. They simply sift through some papers before smiling back at him again.

“”Because I’ve seen your progress, and think this will help you progress even further. You’ve shown a good work ethic, clear compassion, and dedication towards law. So, do you want me to email you the details so that you can apply?”

Deceit has to take a moment for the information to sink in. Work ethic, compassion and dedication? He wasn’t sure he should believe that. Hadn’t he been told he was lazy and selfish and ruined things?

No, that was my ex. He told me those things, so I shouldn’t believe him.

So really, there was only one answer.

“Yes please, I want to take this opportunity.”

And the anger feels a little less intense, but still there, fuelling something larger, something he couldn’t quite yet recognise.

But he thinks he’s ready for this, to take the leap of faith and apply for something new and exciting.

And the something inside burns brighter still.

[biofunmy]

Tech Products We Tried And Loved In 2018

As tech and business reporters at BuzzFeed News, we love consuming stuff. This year, our obsessions weren’t limited to the buzziest new gadgets (we recommend LAST year’s iPhone, and the Facebook Portal is conspicuously absent from this list). We were also into all sorts of new apps, fun social media accounts, productivity hacks, and even just ways to…disconnect from technology. (Reading books! Doing jigsaw puzzles!) And yes, we also enjoyed weed vape pens.

Here are all the things that the BuzzFeed Tech and Business team tried this year and wholeheartedly recommends.

1.

Customizing my PopSockets to show my cats’ faces �� $15 each

I don’t need to go into all the ways that PopSockets greatly improve your life; my colleague Katie has already done that, naming it as her favorite tech thing of 2017 and talking about it nonstop all of last year. (I should know. I sit next to her in the BuzzFeed newsroom.)

Long story short, Katie convinced me too, but I took it a step even further by customizing my PopSockets with my cats’ faces. This is an easy thing. You basically take a picture of your beloved pet (or pets), photoshop out the background, and head over to the PopSocket “customizer” page. A pair cost me only $30. And you can switch out the design by popping off the top, so both Laser Beam and Vivienne get play on my phone.

Yes, this is something I show off to people at parties, frequently and obnoxiously. But now you can be that person too! Also, I’m planning to get a friend of ours a customized PopSocket with the face of his girlfriend on it as a prank Christmas gift. It’s gonna be great.

—Davey Alba

I don’t get why people like PopSockets. They are extremely uncool and bulky. Since I have a deep-seated fear of developing iPhone claw hand and a long history of dropping my phone and shattering screens (my claim to fame is that Bella Hadid and I go to the same screen repair place), I needed to find something that allowed me to hold my phone with my fingers but wasn’t totally lame. I noticed that my friend’s cool German mom was using a sleek iPhone strap at dinner one night, and I ordered one on Amazon for $2.50 less than a standard PopSocket. It lays completely flat and is the perfect size for my middle and ring finger. While I hear that PopSockets constantly break, my sturdy phone strap has never failed me. One time, a stranger on the subway asked me where I got it! I am a trendsetter.

—Maggie Schultz

The thing everyone asks me when I wear my computer glasses is: Do those things work? Well, if by “work,” you mean, “Do they make me look smart and cool?” — then yes. They work great. Do they actually do anything to protect my eyes from blue light? Idk, the science is fuzzy here.

I’ve been blessed with perfect vision, and I don’t need prescription glasses of any kind. But I’ve also been cursed with looking great in glasses! What’s a gal like me to do? Wearing fake glasses with no prescription is embarrassing; it’s something a mall emo teen would do. Computer glasses allow me all the glory of wearing “real” glasses without any visual impairment requirements!

The only downside is they have a slight blue tint, which makes them look different from actual glasses. But it’s probably not that noticeable, so I’m able to walk around looking like a certified genius while still maintaining my idiot lifestyle.

There are fancier versions of these glasses, and maybe those lenses actually do a better job of protecting your eyes. But I was in the market for something cheap, and Amazon had lots of styles under $25. I got a second pair for about $15 in pink plastic frames as well.

—Katie Notopoulos

4.

Dosist pen — $40–$100 on Eaze (availability based on local state law)

I’m 46 and, frankly, I don’t want to get too high. Or arrested. Or smoke dope that’s been treated with something I use to drive my Honda. I don’t want to get blasted or brain-hammered. I have shit to do! But every once in a while I do like to, you know, take the edge off of life?

This is why I like the Dosist pen vape. It’s a self-contained oil vaporizer that delivers a measured dose of THC and CBD as you inhale, and then vibrates to let you know to stop. There are various “formulas” with different THC to CBD ratios, and other terpenes, designed to deliver specific types of highs. (I like Bliss.) It’s also reusable. When empty, you can bring it back to a store that sells them for a $5 deposit. Plus it’s available from various on-demand delivery services, such as Eaze, so you can have it at your door within about 10 minutes of deciding you need to, uh, unwind. Not bad!

—Mat Honan

5.

Infinite content feeds that aren’t social media — various prices

2018 was the year I embraced the continuous scroll and the back catalogue. Long live the podcast feed, the extended playlist, and the audiobook. There were too many moments in 2017 when I was browsing Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram and asked myself, “What am I doing here? How have two hours passed? Is this why I can’t finish a book?” or exclaimed, “Holyshiteverythingissobad!” I was receding-hairline-deep in inane and stressful content, a condition that only encouraged stress and self-loathing. I needed a change.

So did I really listen to two years’ worth of Who? Weekly, a gossip podcast about C-list celebrities? The alternative was reading more Twitter takes about how and why the Russia investigation wound torturously on, so you fucking bet I did! Did I stream Abba’s entire discography on Spotify? It distracted me from the hellfires shrouding my apartment in ash, so I sure did! Was listening to 37 hours of The Brothers Karamazov‘s intellectual Russian family drama better than clicking on three gay thirst trap accounts in a row? YES.

—Blake Montgomery

Tabs. I tend to have a lot of them. As of writing this, I have 67 open across six windows, and many I don’t even remember clicking. There’s that big New York Times exposé on Donald Trump’s tax schemes, which I got halfway through before I was probably distracted by something dumb and meaningless on Twitter. There’s a friend’s 10,000-word essay I promised myself I’d read eventually. And there are three tabs of stale Twitter feeds I forgot to exit out of.

Tabs are the most obvious byproduct of my internet attention deficit disorder, the online exoskeletons of things my addled mind was interested in for about 10 minutes until a new shiny notification fluttered across my screen. Compared to others, my problem is probably mild. A colleague, whom I’ll leave unnamed, confided to me the other day that he had 2,193 tabs that he’s archived with an online tool. [Editor’s note: BuzzFeed News does NOT endorse Ryan’s tab strategy; it will slow your computer to a crawl.]

I have yet to download a tab manager — it’d probably just feed my habit — but I have found something else to cope with my issue. Audm, an iPhone app, streams audio read aloud by professional narrators of longform articles from outlets including the Atlantic, the New Yorker, and BuzzFeed News. Priced comparably with a newspaper or magazine subscription at $7.99 a month, Audm is perfect for long commutes and vacation road trips. Stories, of which there are more than 1,000 on the app, run anywhere from 15 minutes to 2 hours, and they sound exactly like a well-done audiobook. The content is also surprisingly fresh, with releases timed to magazine publication dates or within a few days of a story appearing online.

While the app is buggy (it takes a full minute to load and crashes about three times before I can get a working stream), it’s worth the wait. It’s transformed my morning train rides from a constant refreshing of Twitter, email, and Slack to one where I’m able to catch up on a subject I actually wanted to read about, a distraction from the distractions. And the best part is, when I get to work, I’m finally able to X out of one those tabs that I forgot about a few months ago.

—Ryan Mac

7.

@_personals_ Instagram

I spend way too many nights scrolling through Instagram until I finally fall asleep. Some of my favorite posts are the ads on @_personals_, an Instagram-based dating community for queers. The account is inspired by old-school newspaper personals, and it’s so damn good.

The way it works: The small group running the account holds an open call for ad submissions and asks for a $5 donation. Throughout that month, the account posts the ads, including a cute emoji and the submitter’s Instagram handle so interested people can get in touch.

Here’s a sampling of the ads:

“Androfemme lesbian boy-child seeks co-collaborator in all things to eventually farm sheep, write books, & build a house with.”

“22/aries/tiny faggy nb boy iso non-monog partners for crafts & crafty fucking”

“25,enby femme. Half puppy half little. Bottom bitch. Lives to please but bratty & will make you earn it. Ask my mami. I’m worth it.”

“Wry & romantic, reserved (not timid) femme into questioning, clumsily cooking with patient people, & song. Actual tragic for musos, gentle tradies, & enthusiastic nerds.”

And all of this was posted just in the last week! I was introduced to this account to expand my dating options. But now I mainly read this account for the prose.

—Leticia Miranda

For the last few months, my world has been dark. It started when Apple added a new feature in the latest version of its Mac operating system that switches all menus and other parts of the user interface to blacks and grays. This makes it easier to look at your computer at night or in a dark room without squinting. Eventually I got so used to the look that all bright colors on any screen made my eyes hurt.

Fortunately, more and more tech companies seem to be building a “Dark Mode” into their products, and I’ve since switched to it on all the apps I use the most: on Instapaper to catch up on my reading, on Twitter when I’m scrolling through my timeline for hours, on the Kindle app to read books, on YouTube, and on Reddit, which added it earlier this year. Last week, I installed Dark Reader, a Chrome extension that makes all web pages dark by default, and a dark theme for Chrome that makes the browser’s tabs jet black.

Most of us can’t help being chained to our screens for unhealthy amounts of time each day, but turning on dark mode wherever possible is a tiny luxury we should all indulge in.

—Pranav Dixit

9.

Headspace — $95.88/year subscription

For most of my life, hearing people talk about meditation would conjure up New Age visions of crossed legs and om-ing and marathon stretches of Nirvana-achieving trances. From afar, it seemed like an activity that required endless hours of devotion — more like a way of life than a healthy hobby. So to say I was extremely skeptical of app-based meditation would’ve been an understatement. At worst, it sounded like a scam; at best, a bastardization of a sacred kind of ritual.

I was wrong. A friend introduced me to Headspace after a conversation we had about productivity — specifically, how I’d found it nearly impossible to focus and structure my days without jumping haphazardly from tab to tab in my browser. And how I’d end even my best days feeling frazzled, detached, and legitimately unsure of what I’d just accomplished. On their advice, I bought myself a year’s subscription in order to incentivize actually creating a routine. I chose the Basics tutorial and tried a couple of five-minute sessions.

Unsurprisingly for a mindfulness app, the introduction to meditation is very calming and gentle. I learned that I’d been mostly wrong about the entire practice — devoting just 10 or 20 minutes a day (or whenever you have some downtime) can pay dividends quickly and improve focus. And the app — despite some corny animations — is full of guided, unguided, and semi-guided sessions that you can tailor to your day (helping to fall asleep, unwinding at the end of the day, focus before or after a workout, or just taking a breather).

I’m still no guru and I’ll admit I’ve struggled to sit down with Headspace reliably every day. But when I do, it’s immediately satisfying and is maybe the only thing on my phone that makes me feel good. The app-based part, of which I’d been so skeptical, is actually the part I find most essential in that it helps me take a few minutes for myself during random bits of downtime. It’s technology that introduces a little friction and reflection into my life, and for that I’m thankful.

—Charlie Warzel

10.

/remind command in Slack

You can set a bot to remind you of anything by just typing a command. It’s like having a personal assistant in the future, and it’s great for someone like me, who never leverages to-do lists or calendars to their full potential. You can set these reminders hours, days, or even weeks in advance by just typing a command. So for example, if I know I need to mail something when I get to work but am afraid I’ll forget to take it out of my backpack, I just set a Slack reminder for about 10 minutes after I expect to arrive at the office, and it reminds me to do it!

—Caroline O’Donovan

11.

Cutting the cord — Savings: $125.79/month

I can’t believe how long I let my cable company pump cash from my bank account. The last time I got a bill from Spectrum was in March. It was $208.26 for a “Triple Play” bundle: allegedly “fast and reliable” internet, cable (with HBO and DVR), and a fucking landline that I never even bothered to get a phone for. This package, according to a dubious customer service rep, was inexplicably cheaper than just ordering internet and cable separately without the unused landline, and it was the lowest price they could offer me, a customer of 10 years. Shit, right? The point had clearly arrived in my life when I had to decide whether I was willing to pay $2,499.12 a year to mindlessly flip through a-hundred-something channels when I was too bored to do anything else. But lame habits die hard, and it was comforting to know that I could always pull up some channel playing Friends reruns at the end of a long day. After painstakingly convincing my husband that he’d still have access to his precious, vital, life-sustaining ESPN through any number of streaming services, we made the irreversible leap to the land of the cordless, and my GOD, it has been wonderful.

We rebuilt our media habitat like this:

– An internet-only account on Verizon for $42.48 per month

– The cheapest Sling TV subscription (it has my essentials like CNN, Comedy Central, HGTV, BBC America for those great animal series, and TBS for Friends reruns, as well as ESPN for hubby) for $25 per month, and it came with a free Roku

– An HBO Now account that’s $14.99 per month

We also got a digital antenna for $14.99 plus tax, a one-time cost. There’s less content, but there hasn’t been a microsecond when I thought, Man, there’s not enough to watch. In fact, I might even say the quality of my media consumption has slightly improved since we cut the cord, as there are fewer channels that lure me into hours of accidental, regretful viewing. My programming has become more intentional. And the Roku universe is full of apps for free content like YouTube (and, ahem, BuzzFeed) and PBS Kids for my toddler. The free Roku Channel also has a boatload of free movies — not new releases, but stuff like Brooklyn, The Fighter, Spaceballs, and Braveheart: things you might have previously watched on DVD.

So I went from paying $208.26 per month to veg out with my TV to paying $82.47 to veg out with my TV. I am a step closer to entertainment enlightenment, my friends. As for the math: I’m saving $125.79 a month; which adds up to $1,509.48 per year! I intend on taking my family on a low-key getaway with this money, which is definitely going to be more memorable than 200 hours of MTV. I know people will ask “But what about DVR?” (it’s an extra $5 a month on Sling) and “Won’t all the streaming services you get to replace cable add up?” (it depends entirely on what you need, but a lot of my friends who have cable are ALSO paying for HBO or Netflix or Hulu already, so we’re possibly all oversubscribed). If there are cable-only programs that really add value to your life, then by all means, keep the cord and stay happy — I’ve just found that isn’t the case for me.

It’s possible that one day we’ll all be so dependent on cordless services that they will find ways to force customers to subscribe to bloated media packages. But for now, what’s not to love?

—Venessa Wong

12.

Buying last year’s model iPhone X (256GB edition) – $710

This year, I decided to switch from my Android back to an iPhone. I fly a lot to visit my parents in the Philippines, so I loved the cheap, convenient international coverage my Pixel’s Google’s Project Fi offered me ($10 per 1GB of data plus $20 for unlimited calls and texts!). But I missed the easy compatibility of the iPhone with other gadgets in my home, like my finicky Vizio soundbar.

But another difficult decision awaited me because 2018 was the year when choosing an iPhone became confusing as hell. The new iPhone XR’s upgrades were minimal compared to last year’s X, but the phone got wildly more expensive. So I got a used iPhone X (for a great deal, I might add) on the website Swappa.

My colleague Nicole Nguyen convinced me to make this call in her (excellent) iPhone XR review. Basically, a used iPhone X checks all the boxes in terms of positive qualities: It’s small-hand-friendly, has a super high-res screen, extra zoom, portrait mode, and is less than $1,000 to boot.

And hey, I was glad to hear some year-end 2018 news that aligns well with my choice: In November, Google renamed Project Fi to “Google Fi,” and announced that it would soon support a lot more phones, including my iPhone X. Huzzah!

—Davey Alba

13.

@girlshredclips Instagram

Back when I was a little girl living in the middle of nowhere and roaming around my rural town (population: 125) on my skateboard, I couldn’t have imagined that there were other girls who liked skating as much as I did. Anything I ever found online or in Thrasher magazine featured boys. Yes, there was occasionally Elissa Streamer, generally considered to be the first woman skater to go pro, and there were always bikini babes… but I couldn’t relate much to Ms. Streamer (more badass than I could ever hope to be), and I certainly was not a bikini babe. I never saw another skater like me (which is maybe not a surprise, considering how rarely I saw other people at all back then).

Now I’m a grown woman in a big city and skating less often than I used to, but my heart skips a beat anytime a post from @girlshredclips, @meowskateboards, or @skatelikeagirlsfbay pops up on my Instagram feed. Holy shit, these girls can shred.

Some are just little kids, some are my age, some are moms. Although they all skate better than me, I can see myself in them — past, present, and future — and it delights me to think that skater girls growing up in 2018 have plenty of relatable examples to keep in mind whenever some dude tells them that they’re posers. Yes, the internet can be a facilitator of chaos; Instagram and the other social media platforms can sometimes make you feel like you have a garbage life. But lady skater Instagram accounts bring me joy every day. (Pro tip: Unfollow people who make you feel bad about yourself; follow a few women who shred instead.)

—Samantha Oltman

When I go to a bar, I want to be able to hang out with friends and just, you know, talk to them at a normal human volume. But many food and drink establishments are so dang loud that you end up gesturing at, instead of conversing with, people. That’s why I am very into the free Soundprint app, which is only available for iOS but also has a website version. Soundprint publishes a list of quiet places in major cities, including New York, San Francisco, Philadelphia, and Las Vegas.

The Soundprint app shows you an average noise rating in decibels of the restaurants, bars, and coffee shops near you. The app calculates the rating based on “SoundCheck” submissions from users who allow the app to access their iPhone’s microphone to measure how loud the environment is. According to the app, a red rating (over 81 decibels) means a place is so loud that long exposure can cause hearing loss — and there are over a dozen establishments within a square mile of our office that fit that profile! Anyway, if you, like me, are a grumpy curmudgeon, this app is great if you want to find a quiet place to chat.

—Nicole Nguyen

The best thing to happen to my cat in 2018 was Mousr, a small, wheeled, AI robo-mouse he has embraced in a Milo and Otis kind of way — if Otis was a cat toy and Milo was a cat hellbent on its destruction. This is in no way an exaggeration. My cat has developed an almost pathological addiction to “Mr. Roboto,” which uses a small array of cameras, a “time-of-flight” sensor, and some other whiz-bang tech to convince him that it’s an actual mouse. Watching my cat playing with Mousr is like watching one of those slow-motion YouTube videos of cheetahs surprise-attacking gazelles. My cat talks to Mousr — with those same sinister chattering, chirping cat-sounds that typically signal imminent murder. My cat drags Mr. Roboto off its charging station when it’s recharging. This has become such a problem that we recently moved the charging station to the top of an armoire. The other night we heard a small crash downstairs. A few minutes later, our cat came upstairs proudly dragging Mr. Roboto by one of its custom tail attachments. He mewled at us until I pulled out a phone and fired up the app, which allows for both autonomous (wander, wall-hugger, and stationary) and remote control modes. Then he stalked, captured, and mercilessly beat the absolute shit out of it (donkey kick!). Happy kitty. Mousr retails for $149, which is outrageously expensive for a cat toy. But we are probably going to invest in one anyway (ours is a loaner); frankly, I’m not sure there’s any other option. My cat would kill me.

—John Paczkowski

Instagram is by far the app I am most addicted to — sometimes I’ll be scrolling through it, close the app, look around, and mechanically reopen it like some kind of zombie. I have the timer set to 20 minutes, which means I get the alert that it’s time to stop basically every day, sometimes even first thing in the morning! But even though the pop-up message usually makes me stick my tongue out at my phone and roll my eyes, it does break the spell and remind me to do something more useful with my time, like practice Italian on Duolingo. It’s not a cure-all, but it’s a nudge in the right direction in a world where software is almost always nudging you in the wrong direction.

—Caroline O’Donovan

17.

Sonos One — $199 (currently on sale for $179)

You move into an apartment and you get a couch, kitchenware, your bed. But after all those basics are set? An essential upgrade is filling your home with sound. In the continuing hellscape year that was 2018, there was one thing I realized could shift my mood in a small but significant way: playing whatever jam I was currently obsessed with on my Sonos One.

Sure, you can just blast your fave song loudly on your laptop, which I used to do. But then I decided I was going to be the grown-ass 30-year-old woman I am and splurged on a nice-sounding speaker. I went with Sonos because it’s the wireless speaker brand that’s widely known for high-quality sound. Against the wishes of my boyfriend, I bought a Sonos One, a speaker that integrates with voice assistants like Amazon’s Alexa. My boyfriend is freaked out by the idea of an always-on mic listening for a wake word. When I brought the Sonos home, I left the mic deactivated for weeks after setting it up — but I liked to know the option to use Alexa was there if I wanted it.

Then one day… I turned it on. I didn’t tell my boyfriend, I just set up the Sonos One with Alexa when he wasn’t around, and started talking to her. Whenever he came by, I pretended I was still committed to a life lived free of voice commands. But eventually, when we were talking about some song, I just blurted out: “Alexa. Play [song].”

Look, that first reveal wasn’t pleasant, but now my boyfriend has totally come around and yells at Alexa too. “What’s the weather?” “What time is it?” “Play [podcast].” My best troll is commanding Alexa to read an excerpt of an Atavist story he wrote a few years back out loud. He narrated it, so his voice comes through the speakers; you’ve never seen anyone shout, “Alexa, STOP!” so fast.

There are times when the speaker conks out and refuses to respond to me, but you know what? It’s a lot more fun having the thing in my apartment than not. And yeah, to a certain extent, my boyfriend and I have both warmed up to having a voice-activated gadget. The Sonos One is the first and last one I’ll be getting for my home, though. I promise, Joseph.

—Davey Alba

Hosted by Jane Marie, The Dream dives into the multilevel-marketing schemes that have overrun social media. MLMs like Herbalife, Mary Kay, and Amway have been around for a while, but a whole slew of weird new female-friendly ones that sell essential oils or athletic leggings have popped up recently. I’m fascinated by the role the internet has played in their explosion. The podcast talks to people who have been burned and lost money from these schemes. It also dives into the history of how MLMs came to be so popular over the last 50 years, and how the government has failed to rein them in. My favorite episodes are when a producer signs up for a cosmetic MLM and we get to see the details of just how it tricks the sellers into buying the product, losing money outright, and selling within a closed system.

—Katie Notopoulos

19.

2013 MacBook Pro — around $500 on eBay

I’m a sucker for shiny new gadgets, but my favorite piece of tech this year was my five-year-old MacBook Pro. It’s a late 2013 model with a 13-inch display and middling innards, and it’s been the workhorse I have relied on for everything from live-blogging Apple events to reporting from remote corners of the country.

OK, so it’s got some spots across the screen. The battery only runs about five hours before it needs to be plugged in. The spaces between the keys are grubby from the time I spilled tea into the keyboard and never quite managed to get the stains out completely (I let the laptop dry and it still worked like a champ!). And one of the speaker grills is bent from the time I banged it on my bed when I was annoyed with someone on the internet.

But I wouldn’t trade this for anything else, not even for one of Apple’s modern laptops that are thinner, lighter, sexier, pricier, and full of frills like a Touch Bar that nobody asked for or keyboards that can be destroyed by a single speck of dust.

As long as I can stream Netflix and browse the web without Chrome grinding to a halt, my old Macbook Pro is all I need.

—Pranav Dixit

Biking to work is awesome. You don’t have to be face-to-armpit against complete strangers on the bus. You get a little work out. It’s good for the environment, too! What’s not awesome is how dangerous biking on crowded city streets are. I was constantly yelling, “HEY, AHGGHBLERGH” after getting cut off by drivers or pummeled by Uber/Lyft passengers that don’t look over their shoulders before opening the car door.

That is, until I got this rad bell (lol, yes — a RAD BELL) called Spurcycle. It was a birthday gift, which I highly recommend, because at $49, it’s certainly pricier than other bike bells. I like this bell because it’s really small, but it rings very loudly, for an absurdly long time. If you don’t believe me, believe the thousands of people that backed this on Kickstarter in 2013, because they too were into loud little bike bells.

The ring isn’t obnoxious, like a car alarm. It’s nice, and using it is a really lovely way to tell cars, pedestrians, and ride-hail passengers “I’M HERE!!” without having to shout “I’M HERE!!”

—Nicole Nguyen

21.

Shortcut to creating a new Google Doc

I can’t believe I didn’t know about this until just recently, until after I saw someone tweet about it. As someone who primarily works in Google Docs — I use it for all my note-taking and writing — I open new docs all the time!

The shortcut lets you skip all the usual clicks required to open a new doc. Instead, you just type this URL: http://bit.ly/2VnNPmb. But even that’s not really convenient enough. So I dragged it onto my bookmarks bar, and now I have a handy button right in the middle of my browser for NEW DOC.

—Katie Notopoulos

22.

Wireless charging pad — $4

I got my wireless charger in the most discount scenario possible: on a Sunday evening as the Black Friday weekend sales entered their desperate final hours, in a Neiman Marcus outlet store where everything was 40% off, fished out of a giant bin of extra, extra discounted garbage positioned near the registers. It was four levels deep into an Inception-style discount world, it’s some no-brand piece of suspiciously light and hollow junk, and it ended up costing like four bucks. It was the best thing I bought in 2018.

The reason why is pretty simple: The first time you just put your phone down on the table and watch it begin charging — without any plugging in or fiddling around with a cable — is a legitimately magical experience. It’s one of those moments when a thing finally works the way you always wanted it to work, even if you didn’t know you wanted it to work that way. Think of the first time you experienced a real touchscreen phone — i.e., the first time you played with an iPhone — or the first time you put in your AirPods and experienced headphones the correct way.

It’s not a coincidence that both those examples were Apple products — while the company doesn’t tend to be the first to market with a new technology, it’s typically the first to bring a good version to market. There were crappy touchscreen Nokias years before the iPhone, and Bluetooth headphones have been a thing since those dorky headsets people were wearing in the early 2000s. They were all junk, and then Apple made the Correct Thing.

Maybe that’s what’s going on with wireless chargers now, because hardly anybody seems to be using them, despite them being pretty good. Apple seems to have completely screwed up in its attempts to launch its own extremely fancy one (and maybe given up entirely?) and the result is that the market lacks a certain halo of Apple approval and encouragement. But don’t let that stop you! Even my $4 piece of crap is *fantastic*, and everyone should have a wireless charging pad sitting on their desk at work and their bedside table at home.

Start by buying the cheapest one possible to get a feel for how they work; because they don’t need to pay the Apple tax levied on anything with a Lightning connector, they’re wildly cheap — cheaper than all but the cheapest regular iPhone charging cables. Here’s a probably-perfectly-fine Anker wireless charger for $12 — the same price as a six-foot Lightning cable from Amazon Basics. What are you waiting for? You have nothing to lose but your chains.

—Tom Gara

23.

Band Memes on Instagram

If you’ve read this far, I’m going to go ahead and guess you might have been not the coolest person in your high school (no offense). Perhaps you were even like me and played in the middle school or high school band — if so, these memes will be very relatable. I have found myself strangely overjoyed to find extremely niche relatable memes that are mostly made by and for high school students, but that I, an adult, can enjoy as well. This year, I joined an adult community concert band, and I’ve been so happy to play the bassoon in a group setting again. It also gives me an excuse to revive “playing in band” as part of my Personal Brand. And as part of my Personal Brand, I deserve to enjoy these wholesome memes.

—Katie Notopoulos

I love Apple’s AirPods wireless earbuds. I think they’re among the company’s best products and a reminder that Apple still has the chops to inspire that “sense of childlike wonder” that Steve Jobs used to talk about. Problem is, I no longer use them. For whatever reason — my overly large head, my poorly designed auricles, a shitty external auditory meatus — I have difficulty keeping my AirPods in my ears, or getting the type of fit that delivers good sound. I do not have this problem with Master & Dynamic’s MW07 True Wireless Earphones. They have detachable “Silicone Fit Wings,” which slot them securely into my outer ear, and they sound fucking fantastic. In fact, they are by far the best-sounding buds I’ve used. And they’d better be because they cost $299 (double Airpods’ $149). This is perhaps because they feature “custom 10mm high-performance Beryllium drivers,” are cloaked in “handcrafted acetate,” and come with a hefty stainless steel charging case (14 hours of additional charge) that might break a toe were you to drop it on one. I don’t need or care about any of those things. But as a big-headed, recovering audiophile, I am happy to pay for them if it means my earbuds will stay in my ears and reliably play “Master of Puppets” into them with solid sonic accuracy.

—John Paczkowski

In August, my wife, my dog, and I spent a weekend with friends in a rental cabin in New York’s Hudson River Valley. We planned on hiking the whole time, so of course it rained for two days straight. The options inside were limited to books, conversation, and wine — good enough for the Greeks, but not for me. I ransacked the cabinets. Scrabble, been there. Monopoly, done that. Then, at the back of the bottom shelf, I spied it: a jigsaw puzzle. And not any jigsaw puzzle, but a 1,000-piece warhorse from the bad boys at Ravensburger. When completed, “The Sanctuary of Knowledge” depicts an old couple reading by the fire in a cavernous Baroque library as fairies fly around them. (I took the fairies to be a metaphor for the magic of reading.) I’m like any other tech-addled thirtysomething (i.e., delayed gratification averse) but something about this wee old couple and their whimsical retirement made me want to dump the box out and get to work. So I did! — to the polite ambivalence of my friends.

I didn’t finish it. I got about a quarter of the way there and then we had to leave. But those few hours I spent matching shades of brown for the inlays on the vaulted shelves felt, I don’t know, therapeutic? Meditative? Purposeful? The puzzle didn’t come with an app or a leaderboard; it didn’t want to know anything about me or my friends; it couldn’t tell me the weather. Instead, it drew my mind and my fingers into a soothing little loop, never popping up with notifications, never leading me to other puzzles that secretly advocate for fascism, always with a discrete ending in sight. Good for me! I thought at the time, the completion of one-fourth of a moderately challenging puzzle was proof that there was still some gray matter left between the internet-sized holes in my brain. Bully for puzzles!

I ordered “The Sanctuary of Knowledge” on the car ride home. I’m saving it for a rainy day.

—Joseph Bernstein

Sahred From Source link Business

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