#you gotta understand how fragile their masculinity is

[rageprufrock]

hello, I hope you're doing well. I was wondering if you could answer a career-related question of mine. I'm a young woman (21) in an extremely male-dominated field. I want to go into project management, but I am not prepared to deal with the insane male egos/fragile masculinity I had to experience during my internships. it doesn't help that I've been a passive person my whole life. how do I overcome my passiveness? how do I even begin to learn leadership and project/people management? 1/

I'm going to be honest, you're catching me at a disadvantage because I'm allergic to project management. Like if I'm sharing an area code with that shit I'm itchy. I'm joking, a little, sort of, because the unfortunate truth is about 50% of my job on any given day at this point is project managements but I still hate it. The point is, I'm not your best point of contact for it, because while I can do it for my specific area of expertise, the practice by itself is not my ministry, if you get my drift. Project managers are lunatics who you will find snorting crushed up Excel spreadsheets in truck stop bathrooms, and for that I fear and respect them.

For the passivity, maybe have some thoughts that might be helpful.

So like, you're probably not going to like hearing this: but oh my God, you're--so young. Like I refer to someone on my team who is 30 this year as the resident fetus. You have nine years before you hit fetus status. So much of you're feeling is only going to be remedied with time and experience, and your fearfulness of speaking or standing out right now in a professional environment isn't a mark of failure in yourself, it's a natural part of your growth and progression.

It is absolutely normal and completely fine that when you were in an intern (or honestly, even early career!) situation, presumably surrounded by people who were more experienced than you and have significant seniority to you, you felt were feeling at sea with the egos and politics.

Here's a dirty little secret, especially re: internships:

Many interns get brought in on projects that are far, far, far beyond their actual scope of capability.

That is because we have no actual expectation that you will deliver any work or usable outputs on it, but we want interns to get excited about what we do, to feel like their work could be important, for them to get a taste of the what it will be like when you actually get your feet wet and have more professional seasoning.

For example, people who summer at law firms get a red carpet experience rolled out to them, and they get to sit in on really exciting high profile client meetings! These are not things that will happen for them again for a long, long, long fucking time once they become associates! Once they've got you in their claws, they no longer care about giving you enjoyable stimulus, now you gotta start billing.

In organizations I've worked at in the past, I was fully happy to welcome interns with like 4 minutes of "experience" into very sensitive high level meetings--with the understanding that (a) everybody there knew they were the intern (b) the objective was to show them what the work could be like and (c) that nobody would actually ask them to throw themselves into the demented fray of the actual work.

The goal isn't to scare you off. We know that the stuff you're seeing a lot of times as an intern is really terrifying, for a lot of reasons. If you're in a room of people with 10 or 20 years of experience on you, then...yeah, it's going to feel awkward. You're not even a full time employee! Of course it's going to be weird and nervewracking! If you didn't feel weird and nervewracked about it, I would ask you to bottle whatever it is you're taking and sell it to become a billionaire.

Beyond that, the rest of it will come with time--truly.

When I think back to the person I was at 21, at 22, I feel such a strange tenderness toward her. I feel so protective. She had no idea what she was doing, and she was doing her best to do her best every day. She failed a lot. She was a mess. The people around her knew it. She knew it. She wasn't the greatest at what she did, or a very good friend, but she was trying so desperately to keep her head above water and only sometimes succeeding.

So much of the vulnerability you're feeling will be remedied in tiny, unnoticed ways. With every day and week and hour, you'll gain some new insight or capability, and some afternoon or month far from today--but closer than you think--you're going to look back and realize you've built yourself an entire suit of professional armor, and have no idea where it came from. You feel passive and ill equipped right now--but that's only because you are ill equipped right now, you just tumbled out onto this strange new world.

It's going to take a while to get your sea legs--just try to be kind to yourself as you do it.

You're going to crush it. I just know it.

[breedseternalmisery]

see i’d be nosy as fuck and wanna see the list so here (most of needs are normal relationship things and things that normal people who love someone would do so. that tells a lot about me) ((also don’t even question some of the wants.. i probably wouldn’t be able to explain))

NEEDS!!!!

-420 friendly

-experience with mental health, eds, and trauma (either their own or friends or past partners, but i don’t want to have to TEACH them how to help me. i’ll of course help some but i don’t wanna have to lay everything out)

-has to learn overtime things that i’d need (examples: what movie would be good to put on or what type of show id need on a situation.)

-is able to to watch and help with overstimulations (i can’t tell sometimes myself, and having someone watch or help is important)

-someone to help me with tone (social interactions and cues with others but also MYSELF, sometimes i don’t even realize what’s acceptable or not)

-darker hair (i just like it more)

-will cook and bake with me

-will put effort into planning dates and gifts as i put into them

-will let me infodump

-will watch my shows and movies (and i REALLY hope they wouldn’t have seen a few because i wanna watch their reactions)

-understands space and boundaries (basically will give me space when i need unwound time)

-cat lover

-kid LIKER (don’t gotta love ‘em, but don’t hate them.)

-kinks and into’s similar (duhhh)

-has to like books (doesn’t have to love, but i want to give them a book now and then to read if i think they’d like it ((also have them read to me sometimes)) )

-similar music taste (so we can jam out together!)

-not too similar (so i can learn more and we aren’t too alike)

-more “dom” in the relationship? (idk the meaning of this but i know the VIBE of a guy i’d want, and that’s the only way i can describe it)

-same humor

-same views on politics (DUH)

-PETNAMES!!!!

-no fragile masculinity pls

-goood grammar (come on..)

-tats or wants tats

-is okay with love nibbles or bites (oral fixation so)

-dog liker

not required but WOULD BE NICE!!!

-neurodivergent themself !! (can understand each other better)

-taller than me

-smokes themselves (weed or cigs, both fine!)

-hot hands

-money. (GIFTS AND LEGOS ANNDHAHHWJSI)

-leaning dom top in the bedroom (listen i’m a verse switch very leaning sub bottom but like ON OCCASION I LIKE DOM TOP!!!)

-COLLECTOR LIKE ME!!! (so they understand why i love physical media and merch SO MUCH)

-CONCERTS!! (you don’t gotta like them, but come with me to them!! even if u don’t like the artist)

-indulges in my fantasies (i don’t really want kids, but it’s nice to think about them)

-likes horror movies (as long as you sit with me through them, even if ur eyes are covered the whole time, that’s all i ask)

-shows me their favorite things and gets excited when talking about them!! (i love when people have passions)

-bloody noses (hot.)

-a DISTINCT accent or like mother language is not english (hot. also can learn 😁)

-scars (hot!)

-has his own recipes (so we can share and try each others food)

[princesscolumbia]

The funny thing about being a True Domme transwoman in her mid-40s who's getting into miscecanis as a subversive lifestyle at the same time as the Barbie movie is coming out is witnessing the multitude of fuckboys lose their collective shit over being fucking called out by a movie that is basically an extended toy commercial that managed to squeeze in a message that strongly resonates with its true target audience of women who have been fucked over by an oppressively patriarchal culture with an equally effective B-plot about how men have been fucked over by the exact same culture.

M'dudes, there are a few things that are obviously slamming against your amidships and not penetrating the several inches of Fragile Mayo-l Eggo (as opposed to 'male ego,' a healthy and non-performative masculine sense of self usually found among elder gay men far more than their supposedly heterosexual contemporaries) that I'm going to put here in plain text. If you don't get it at this point, then you're fucked, there's no help for you. Go attempt a survival challenge in the middle of the Sahara and lose your compass and canteen. You'll be much more useful to the world doing that than continuing to ignore the following:

The 'theory' of "Alpha males" that you think you subscribe to? Yeah, it's a disproven theory that was misinterpreted in the first fucking place and you can all get FUCKED for thinking you're at all valid for claiming that title. Others have explained the science better than I, and just by claiming "Alpha" to justify the absolutely vile behavior you've proven you could give two shits about science or intellectual anything or human achievement or progress or culture or ANYTHING THAT'S HUMAN YOU HORRID, SUB-HUMAN PIECES OF WALKING SHIT! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP! THERE ARE MUSHROOMS I'D RATHER CLAIM KINSHIP TO MORE THAN YOU!

A true Alpha in the miscecanis sense is the Ultimate Caregiver. Defined by more than biology, the Alpha's role in the relationship is to provide a safe and secure place for their mate(s) and to be selflessly loving and kind. This requires that the omega (or beta, I'm not judging. Two Alphas could be in a relationship too, though that gets tricky as you're dealing with, essentially, two tigers in a bag) feel as though you are the very foundation of their world and that foundation is as solid as pure granite but inviting as a squishmallow nest. That means you're more an engineer than a commander. You're more a facilitator than a leader. You're not some fucked up piece of shit who thinks that the tackle between your legs means you're superior to the person you're presuming to stick that tackle in.

Any true Alpha would take one look at you and say, "Oh, hun, it's okay, we understand that you think that's how Alphas work. Don't worry, your Alpha will be along soon and take you away from all the big scary Alphas that you wandered into the middle of." You're a spitting, hissing kitten. Another omega or a beta might be fooled, but a true Alpha will take one look at you and see right through the act. And every single one of them could take you down without breaking a sweat, but they won't because they don't want to be a bully.

And on the outside, the remote possibility that you did happen to be an actual Alpha, you'd be one of those toxic Alphas the omega's birthing person warned them about. You'd be the reason for the #YesAllAlphas hashtag. You'd be the reason omegas carried cans of pepper spray on their keychain at all times. You'd be the reason yet another challenge fight resulted in an "accidental" death after the rest of the Alphas in the area got sick of your shit and arranged for all the cell phones and security cameras to be conveniently off or broken.

I haven't seen the Barbie movie yet, but based on what I've seen from the spoiler-tastic reviews and memes and GIF-sets, here's what I'm betting a true Alpha would say:

"Wow, that Barbie's gotta be an Alpha, look at how she just owns the space around her."

"Yup, she's commanding and every one of those omegas around her are following her orders. Wonder how many of them she's marked?"

"Ouch! First time in a beta-only part of society, huh? Yeah, that sucks how they won't acknowledge your true gender and judge you based on your outward appearance and have no clue that you're an Alpha because their senses are impaired in comparison."

"Look at her defending her pack! Go girl!"

(Again, I haven't seen it, and this is through my particular interpretation of miscecanis as a lifestyle.)

On the other hand, I'm probably not going to get through to any of you. You got it into your head that you're somehow cosplaying as either White Savior Jesus or his boyfriend Emperor George Washington (who both personally wrote the bible in their native language of Late 20th/Early 21st Century American English and snuck secret messages in it to you telling you to hate all people with any melanin in their skin or any sex and/or gender preferences that you, specifically, find icky) and you got more invested in that persona than I have of being a miscecanis Alpha.

[slenbee]

Here's a convo I had with my mom last night:

Content related: Brief mention of Trump banning transgender athletes in sports, me talking about malicious compliance in a very funny way and hurting the fragile ego's of republican men.

My mom and I were talking about how Trump is banning Transgender athletes, and how there's really only like 17 athletes in college sports in the entire USA that compete. One of which is a trans woman in women's competitive swimming.

While being a Dem she does have her… 'old' ways that can be rather anti-trans in some ways, but I think it's more she doesn't truly understand how it all works.

Anyways, we were eating during this news segment and after it was over I snorted and was like 'That'd be really funny though' and she was like 'what?' so we waited until a commercial and I had her mute the tv and explained:

Me: Okay now think about this. Really think about it. They do this and a trans woman can't compete in women's sports, right? That's what the republicans want. Okay. A trans woman, has likely taken estrogen, or has had surgery. They, in many cases, look like a woman, have the body/figure of a woman, tits and all. Possibly even had bottom surgery, you don't know and that's nobody's business, ok?

Her: ok…

Me: So- So to the republicans, this woman is a -man-, right? (cue thick, masculine southern accent on the word 'man' every time I said it btw) Because they were 'born a man' they should compete in a 'mans' sports, right?

Her: Yes. Because they will think of him- Me: Her Her: Her- as a man. Because they were born that way.

Me: Okay- okay. So if that's how it's going to be. (me grinning because #maliciousCompliance) Now take that trans woman, and put them in, say, mens swimming. Let's say that trans women then kicks their asses up and down that pool. They win time and time again. You know damn well those men are going to be so fucking pissed and have their fragile masculine ego's broken because a self identified woman kicked their ass. Even though biologically they were born a man, they still identify as a woman and look like a woman. Or they'd cry she had 'advantages because of estrogen or x y z reason!!!'

Her: …Yeah that would be kinda funny to be honest.

---

I know that trans men can't participate in most sports because taking testosterone immediately gets you barred from like.. anything. But c'mon.

What about a trans man in women's chess?

There's gotta be more ways for malicious compliance.

[omercifulheaves]

Man, I really wish people online would understand that when some trash nerds cries about how some piece of media from way back when "DiDn'T hAvE poLItiCs!" what they mean is "it was centered around and / or catered to someone like me rather than a woman / queer / non-white person so I could ignore whatever message it had." Going "Ah-HA but it DID have a message!" isn't any more of a gotcha than calling a Republican politician a hypocrite because that's not what it's actually about. What it is about is that these are a bunch selfish little weirdos who have built their identity around the narrow number of things they consume and they're mad that It's Not Their Toy anymore. It was never about what the point was! The X-Men have been a metaphor for marginalized / oppressed peoples since at least the Claremont days? Don't care! I gotta acknowledge the idea of non-binary people now and that's a threat to my fragile sense of masculinity! Clive Barker's always been openly gay and Hellraiser has always had transgressive sexual themes? Doesn't matter, Pinhead was played for a dozen movies by a (as far as I know) heterosexual white man but now they've been played by a transwoman for ONE movie and that is an outrage! Oh no, we can't jerk off to Lara Croft any more! Because Politics!

You can't rationally debate people who are not coming at you from a rational point of view. Hell, sometimes I feel like people engage with these assholes just so they can preach to the choir. And I'll admit I can be guilty of it as anyone. But don't do that. Just block 'em and move on with your day.

[yarns-and-d20s]

Just finished watching a YouTube video about JKR and her whole "I'm never going to forgive those young people who disagree with me!" nonsense. The YouTuber made a bit of a throwaway comment about the adults who can't let go of HP because of what it meant to them in their youth, and I had too many thoughts for a YouTube comment, so, here I am.

My HP credentials: the first book came out when I was 15. I borrowed it from a younger person in my life, and ended up DNF'ing at the time because those opening chapters were so brutally mean-spirited and bleak I couldn't handle it. What can I say, I was a pretty fragile little thing. I ended up going back to the franchise in 2001 when my best friend wanted me to see the first movie with her. She'd already seen it, and just desperately wanted to share it with me, but would say no more. She bought my ticket and my popcorn, and, well, I ended up spending several years in the HP fandom, and was with it all through the release of the final film, and then slowly, it just sort of dwindled in my interest, though I did re-listen to the Fry-narrated audiobooks or watch the movies again from time to time, and had my various bits of merch hanging around my room.

But I gotta admit, I feel the same way that YouTuber does about the HP adults. The ones who won't let it go despite JKR, rather than, y'know, holding on because of her. The ones who wail, "But you don't understand what Harry Potter meant to me!"

Because the thing of it is: I do. My Harry Potter was David & Leigh Eddings' Belgariad and Mallorean, which was 10 entire books, that grew up alongside its main character, a very special orphan chosen one boy with magic powers and even a special mark on his body (Garion's was on his hand). Hell, he was also raised by his aunt, though I think Aunt Pol would kick Aunt Petunia's ass, and ends up marrying a redhead.

I started reading Pawn of Prophecy when I was 10 (I was a very precocious reader!). I re-read both series a lot up until 2010; I re-read them so much that all 10 books needed to be replaced because they were falling apart. Yeah, they got bought twice in my house. My best friend--the same one who took me to see Philosopher's Stone--also loved the Belgariad & Mallorean and we bonded over those books, talked about them constantly, the whole nine yards. Not only that, but my only other friend in the entire world as a teen also loved those books. They meant the world to me.

But as I progressed through my 20s, I started noticing the bioessentialism and the thing where people from the north and west were good but the people from the south and east were scary and evil or just plain old strange. The fact that very nearly all the female characters could be described as "beautiful and sassy" and were rewarded with marriage and babies if they were good women but if they were bad women who were too masculine in their appetites or behaviours, they got punished for it. On top of all that, news resurfaced several years ago about how the Eddings had been tried and found guilty of abusing their adopted children. They never adopted again after they served out their punishments, and the Belgariad was envisioned by the couple as, like, a love letter/apology letter to children or something like that.

So, yeah, I actually get it. A lot. And the Eddings are dead now, and can't hurt anybody, but I haven't touched those books in 14 years. They were so important to me, and I can still "hear" the influence of the Eddings' style in my own fiction writing. They'll always be special to me, but, you know, there's... there's other books.

I spent years rolling my eyes at people who would pull the "read other books" line. It was kind of ridiculous; I never knew anybody who was into HP and never read anything else. It was just that HP always inspired a particular fandom and devotion because so many people had it in common. I understand how important the community itself was; remember, I was in it.

But by the same token, because nuance is a thing, I don't fully understand not being able to let it go. Yes, I'm sure it was easier for me to let go of because I was an adult (19, closer to 20 than to 18) when I actually got into the franchise. And there was never really a huge, thriving Belgariad/Mallorean fandom. But if your HP fandom friends are only your friends because of HP, then... they're not really your friends, are they?

The Eddings are dead. They can't use their money to hurt anybody. There are living authors right now who are not raging sacks of shit who are struggling to put food on their plates. There are also lots of shows and games that you can love, and maybe there's a movie occasionally, sometimes (note to self: edit and post mini-essay about how the advent of the DVD was a huge stepping stone that led us to the current state of cinema).

I both do and don't know how hard it is to let go of something that meant so much to you as a kid. I know in so much as I've done it; but my autistic brain is struggling to not understand why if I can do it, other people can't. If it's about friends--guys, gals, non-binary pals, they ain't your friends if they don't want anything to do with you if you can't talk about Harry goddamn Potter. If they will talk to you without it, find that thing to talk about.

I know it'll hurt. I still ache sometimes to go back to [insert setting of Belgariad/Mallorean here], and see all my book friends, but, hey, I've sure read a lot of books since I stopped re-reading the same 10 books every 12-18 months for 13 years.

Sometimes, we outgrow things. That's okay. It's allowed. I gave myself permission to make 2010 the last time I read those 10 books. I give myself permission to miss them. I give myself permission to think fondly of what they meant to me. But it became time to move on, because my soul is bigger than racism, sexism, and two people who beat their children, and needed to be fed with new things.

[another-delta-lover]

A moot accidentally reminded me about this post, so:

(cw for tf2 comics spoilers xP )

Did I forget to add...

Even If I said many times that he is mysterious but sweet, it's surprising to me how I didn't mention how mentally INSANE HE IS. Which of course, makes him a better character /hj.

The way he laughs so powerfully when shooting his minigun for 12 seconds for the cost of $400,000 is so OQWGHDIAGLJDGLSADJA Everyone always make him look too aggressive, too cold, too sweet, too smart, too dumb, too much of an introvert, but there are many, many people that fail to realize how he's the perfect mix of all of those things. While he's aggressive and really, REALLY powerful on battle, he can still be really calm, mysterious and introverted when around some/all of his teammates, while of course, he's sweet and really friendly when around medic, for example. He isn't one specific category of personality, he's got everything that, for me, make him a great character that's deserving of all my love <3

Going back to the INSANITY this man hides behind all of his other beautiful and unique characteristics, I LOVE AND ADORE the way he's so big and DESTRUCTIVE (idk if that's the right term) in some way. Like, the way he laughs and makes fun of the people he just killed when übercharged, the way he's so MENACING and such a THREAT to the opposite team because he's so goddamn powerful and IT'S QUITE CLEAR HE KNOWS HE IS. HE'S THE BIG MAN YOUNKNOW IDASIDBABDPAWBDAKBKDBALDS AUGHHAKIBDW I LOVE HIM TOO MUCHHH. And again with the "menacing" part. I know this might seems weird but we all know what an A posing 2Fort heavy is. Right?. Well. THOSE HEAVIES ARE SO GODDAMN SCARY?? LIKE DON'T GET ME WRONG I UNDERSTAND IT'S A JOKE AND ALL but even as a joke HE IS SCARY AS HELL. Not only bc of, idk his power or whatever, but how STRONG and POWERFUL his voice is??? How BIG he's compared to the average person??? the way you know if he says "I'm gonna CRUSH YOU" HE WILL BC OF HOW STRONG HIS GODDAMN ARMS ARE??? LIKE. THAT'S NO JOKE. HE'S A MENACE AND I LOVE HIM FOR THAT. I hate how people don't appreciate the scary-ness of him enough. Yeah he sweet but PLEASE ALSO MAKE HIM SCARY!! PLEASE!!!

Also, in the first part of this amazing 🧵, I mentioned how he isn't affected by the "gender norms" of the time, being able to wear dresses and directly say "I love you" to his teammate(s), meaning he doesn't have a fragile masculinity, and well, Something that I also like to think about her as a trans woman sometimes!! I love to see her as a good representation on what maybe could be a closeted trans person from the 60's-70's!!! Heavy is prettiest princess, after all <3 (I LOVE FAT BITCHES!!). I would love if she was indeed a trans woman not only bc of what I said before, but also bc of her body type! I feel like I don't see enough big trans women representation, and I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THAT IN MY GURL HEAVY!! ASHDAGHDASDKSKDJADHK

ANOTHER THING!!! the heavy mains AUUUUGHHHH THE HEAVY MAINS -EXPLODES- YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I LOVE HEAVY MAINS looks at pootimedes- LIKE. THEY ARE A TOTALLY DIFFERENT TYPE OF PEOPLE. They can be the most MENACING, sCARY, STRONG PEOPLE EVER. To be a heavy main you gotta understand how HARD it is to play as heavy. He very strong but he slow and big. Spy do stabby stab stab. But when they're good MY GOD THEY'RE GOOD. YOU GOTTA BE EXPERIENCED TO UNDERSTAND ALL THAT SHI I STILL CAN'T AKSGDKJAGDASHDA I NEED TO SMOOCH THE SHIT OUTTA THEM

But the other type of heavy main are the ones like a certain person I won't name cutely stares at pootimedes BUT THEY CAN BE THE SWEETEST, NICEST, FUNNIEST MOST CARING PEOPLE IN THE WORLD??? They're SO WHOLESOME??? They're always so helpful and playful and QIUWGIDAGBVGDIASAAAAGHGHGHG

I LOVE HEAVY MAINS!!

AND ALSO. HIS EMOTIONS. HOW STRONG THEY ARE. AND HOW THEY CHANGE AROUND THE PEOPLE HE IS.... YOU DON'T UNDERSTAAAANDDD SOBSCRIES Q0OUWDHIASBDIHBSDKA AAAGHHHHH I LOVE HIM. LIKE. LOOK.

First. LOOK HOW PEACEFUL AND HAPPY HE LOOKS AROUND HIS RELATIVES. LOOK AT HIM WITH HIS FAMILY. HOW HEARTWARMING HE LOOKS. HE'S SO CARING AND AAAAGGHGH He shows love to those he loves in such special ways T_T HE'S SO IDEAL

SECOND. It's clear that he absolutely HATES the idea of his sister being with someone like soldier /lh. Even so, even if he's known for being aggressive and explosive, he still acts maybe grumpy but not violent in any way bc he KNOWS soldier makes zhanna happy. DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO ME. HE DOESN'T LET HIS EMOTIONS GET OVER HIM WHEN IT MEANS HIS FAMILY IS HAPPY IM GONNA CRYYY

THIRD. LOOK THE WAY HE DOES LET HIS EMOTIONS GET OVER HIM BC HIS lover FRIEND GOT KILLED BY THIS BASTARD I MEAN CHEAVY. I KNOW THIS ISN'T LIKE. A SURPRISE. He's known to be aggressive ofc he would act like this but do you notice how he could grab sasha and start shooting him?? BUT INSTEAD HE AVENGES THE LIFE OF HIS lover FRIEND WITH HIS OWN HANDS?? HE'S SO PERFECT AND SENTIMENTAL AND EMOTIONAL AND AAAUHGHGGHIAJSBDHIBDASS SOBS CCRIES

THE WAY CHEAVY LITERALLY OFFERS HIM IMMORTALITY AND HE STILL BEATS THE SHIT OUTTA HIM??? HOW OTHERS WELL BEING AND HIS CARE FOR OTHERS GET OVER HIS OWN BENEFIT.- I'M GOING TO THROW UP I LOVE HIM SO MUCH YOU CAN'T COMPREHEND IT

FOURTH (oh BOY this is gonna be LONG) the way he smiles after medic comes back to life <'3 the way he got beaten asf, the way he almost died by cheavy's hands and is in a lot of pain, he still smiles and acts so happy around the person he risked his life for <'3 HE'S SP SWEET!!!! IMMA DIQYWGDVAIOUVBDOUAVSDUAV AAGHHGGHH I NEED TO BREAATTTHHE

the person he fought for is weird asf but I don't judge him EHAGJAGSHEJASE AAAAA I LOVE HIM AND THEM I LOVE THEMMMM

FIFTH. he literally just killed a guy and he's just eating his sandwich i don't even understand where he got that from but he looks so goddamn pretty eating his goddamn sanvich idgaf about what u say he's so pretty

HE'S SO FUCKING PRETTY. HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL SO HANDSOME SOADBIAGBDIGBDIAKSHDADA HE'S SO GORGES,.,.,. GORGEOUS,.,.,. GORGSASD,..,.,.

HE LOOKS SO PRETTY EVEN WHEN HE'S BEATEN UP I SWEARRR AAUUUFHHHHH WHY IS HE SO PERFECT ASIDUGQIWDGBASHBDA DHE LOOKS SO PRETTYTYYYYYY WAAAAAAA ignore the twink dying in the background tho

ANYWAY, one last thing

I LOVE HEAVY. THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO TO STOP THE LOVE I HAVE FOR HIM. I'M GONNA SOB AND CRY AND SOB THIS HURTS MY SOUL BC HE ISN'T A WELL RECOGNIZED CHARACTER NO ONE LOVES HIM LIKE I DOOOOOOO

except for pootimedes but pootimedes is beyond human understanding he's like perfect

AAUUUUGHHH I LOVE HEAVY QWOUGPBVDUQGV09B 9QV7GF9NQF9YRNEC9QNY0RYQC'9Y30RCY07BYQEWPVB80354NCU28RY807QVTB9'R89YBVG72YF9´3Y40Q2B8RCYN7YN0C9WERMXQZNYE87RYQCNPYQPCVY38BRCY HEAVY SAVE ME HEAVYYYY SAVE ME FROM MY SADNESS BIG STRONG MAN THIS BREAK I'VE TAKEN HAS JUST INCREASED MY LOVE FOR THIS MAN ABOVE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING AND KNOWLEDGE. I NEED TO INVENT NEW WORDS TO DESCRIBE MY LOVE AND DEVOTION FOR HEAVY

I NEED HIM IN EVERY WAY A HUMAN PERSON CAN IMAGINE.

SAVE ME HEAVY WEAPONS GUY SAVE ME

YAP [RANT] TO ME ABT HEAVY!!!!!

HE'S SO FUCKING PERFECT.

I get MAD when people simp for medic bc, I understand, tumblr insane sexy man blabla yadda yadda IDGAF

You all CAN'T SEE HOW MUCH OF A PERFECT PERSON HE IS. He's such a good person, he's such a good son and older brother, doin the dishes for his mama, caring about the absolute safety of his sisters, LITERALLY SAVING EM FROM A THING I FORGOT IT'S NAME WHEN HE WAS LIKE, IDK FUCKIN <20< ??? HE'S SUCH A GOOD FAMILY MEMBER. HE WOULD PROTECT U SO WELL AND ALWAYS CARE ABOUT UR SAFETY. AUGH ES UN HOMBRE Q RESUELVE LO JURO. HE ALSO RISKS HIS LIFE TO HAVE MONEY FOR THEM??? AAAAAAAAAAA. He does enjoy his job a lot (WHICH I LOVE IN SOMEONE. HELL YEAH ENJOY UR JOB AND GET WELL PAID), But the main reason of him working is just for his family and the money to help them. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?????

Also HE'S SUCH A GOOD TEAMMATE???? HE WILL PROTECT ALL OF HIS TEAM WITHOUT FEAR AND WIN??? AND ALL HE NEEDS IS SOME CUNTY GAY ASS GERMAN DUDE BEHIND HIM??. He could be such a good grandpa/father figure or even just a really good n close friend to all the mercs, but even so, he acts so cold so quiet and mysterious around em🤭

AND ALSO!!! His masculinity ain't broken by showing love to his teammates??? He can hug em and literally yell to them "I LOVE YOU" from across the map??? Sayin "I LOVE YOU DOKTOR!!" Isn't common between men, even less in that time. If he IS gay, good for him! If he isn't, I'm glad he can express how much he loves someone without the fear of lookin weak is something I admire soso muchhh.

He has a minigun the SIZE OF MY FUCKIN BODY THAT HE CAN CARRY RUNNING WITHOUT ANY KIND OF PROBLEM??? HE COULD CARRY ME AROUND LIKE A STICK AND WOULDN'T EVEN AAHAGAJSHDHAGSH DO YOU REALIZE HE TAKES CARE OF THAT GUN LIKE SHE WAS HIS CHILD??? HE'S A GOOD FUCKING PARENT TOO?? AAAHHHH IM NORMAL

He's a good cook, he cooks really nice meals and doesn't mind to share u some, which I wouldn't do bc I don't share my food. HESO NICE AUGHH. I LOVE IT WHEN MA BOI COOKS😭😭😭 IDK WHY THAT MAKES PEOPLE MORE ATTRACTIVE FOR ME.

Also, HE'S SO FUCKING PRETTY???????? IDGAF HE'S BALD, THAT'S THE BEST PARTY. HIS BLUE EYES ARE SO PRETTY N HIS FACIAL EXPRESSIONS ARE SO SILLYY

LOOK AT HIM!!!! AUGHHH

Also his body is so JAHSLAHDJQHDJALSH he so big so perfect😔😔😔���😔😔😔😔😔😔 His arms are the size of my whole body. AND HIS HANDS AAAAAAAAAA. He so FAT I LOVE HIM. I need him to crush me un a hug so badly. U all don't understand how much of a good body that could be in a relationship. U cold? U hug him problems gone. U wanna be cozy at night but the pillow is too small? He's the biggest pillow and he can hug u back that's soNSHSJAVDJSHD. He can carry u in his arms when u tired, u can lay on his chest and everything.... sighhh.... AND ALSO HE CAN FIGHT A BEAR WITH HIS BARE FISTS AND WIN, THEN EAT IT???? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT IS????? LIKE HOLY FUCK THAT'S LIKE THE PEAK OF MANLINESS FOR ME. The question "would u rather be in a forest with a man or with a bear" I'M CHOOSING THIS BEAR HOLY FUCK HE WOULD PROTECT ME FROM THE BEARS.

ALSO HIS VOICE OH GOD HIS VOICE. It's such a loud and strong voice in English 🤭 even tho he isn't the best at it (me neither), HE SPEAKS IN SUCH A WAY IT MAKES ME KICK MY FEET GIGGLE AND CRY. I need him to say nice stuff to me with his cool asf voice. And when IT'S IN RUSSIAN AHHH😩~ I SWEAR He's such an elegant and polite man😭😭😭 he sounds so professional and ajsvqkebalhdmaoevs And IDC what u all say to me, he could sing so perfectly<3 for me his dialogs of him singing are well sung/GEN. I just imagine him singing:

To me.... Ik the song is kinda sad and not very romantic but IDC HE WOULD SOUND SO PERFECTLY.

HE HAS A PHD IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE LIKE....... HE'S SO FUCKING SMART. HE'S ALSO PRETTY FUCKIN RICH??? IT COST 400,000 DOLLARS TO FIRE HIS WEAPON FOR 12 SECONDS???? AND I'M PRETTY SURE THAT IF HE KNOWS THAT HE'S 1. really fucking smart 2. THE ONE WHO PAYS??? Even if he wasn't rich I still love him a lot but I'm poor so that would make it slightly better. AND ALLTHE MONEY TO HIS FAMILY MOSTLY AUGHHH ALSHAKSHAKDHA

Also his COSMETICS. HIS FUCKING COSMETICS ARE SO HOT AAAAAAA. Most of em are normal silly hats but WHEN THEY AREN'T. OHMY GOD THOSE DARK GLOVES GOT MY LEGS SHAKIN. AND HAVE YOU SEEN HIM IN SUITS??? OH GOD AUGHHH. Not into mafia people n stuff BUT.... FOR HIM I MAKE A BIG AHH EXCEPTION. And also, i want to point out the fact that HE WEARS DRESSES. I shouldn't make it a big dear but DO YOU UNDERSTAND IT'S THE 60's-70's???? AND HE'S A BIG RUSSIAN MAN???? He broke the gender dressing codes of the time not only bc he's a man wearing dresses, but a BIG MAN WEARING THEM??? AND A RUSSIAN MAN??? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO ME????💔💔💔💔 Also his hats are cute I like them.

Just to summary:

Medic < HEAVY!!!

Good person I general, son, older brother, teammate, friend, father and possible partner, risking his life for his family.

He doesn't think lovin teammates is weird or GAY. Unless he is, but honestly good for him

STRONG AS HELL. AJGAJAHDJA

GOOD COOK!!!!

PRETTY!!!!!PRETTY REALLY PRETTY!!! HANDSOME

GORGEOUS FREAKING BODY.

FOUGHT WITH A BEAR AND WON

VOICE OF AN ANGEL!!!!

SMART AND RICH??? AND HE DESERVES TO BE RICH.

AMAZING STYLE.

DOESN'T CARE ABOUT GENDER NORMS.

YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND ME. AAAGHHHHH ILOVEHIM YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU DON'T YOU CAN'T YOU YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND.

[gromit-we-forgot-the-crackers]

would it be inappropriate to spread the rumor that neo-nazis all have tiny dicks,

[farfromrealitypls]

Rafe x ballet girlfriend

A/n: Hiii<3 I literally never did ballet but I read this one story with Rafe having a ballet girlfriend and I can totally see it. Let’s not ignore the fact that he would love how flexible she is:)

What are your guy’s hobbies or interest’s? I would love to make more of those for you with something you see yourself in<3

“I gotta go” Rafe got up and grabbed his car keys.

“Why? Where are you going?” Topper asked, throwing his hands up.

“None of your business” and with that he left the country club, leaving Kelce, Topper and some other friends behind, irritated at his disappearance.

He drove to the address that was written on the ticket. He parked his truck and stared at the theatre. He hated to admit to himself that he was nervous going in there, but he would hate himself if he didn’t. So he mentally shoved his fragile masculinity in a box and just told himself to get over with it. It’s not like he didn’t want to watch, this was the first time you invited him to a show and he knew nothing about ballet. He went inside and quickly sank into his seat, he made himself as small as possible. He looked around and his heart dropped when he made eye contact with the last person he wanted to see now.

“Rafe?” Sarah got up and walked over to her brother.

He rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered.

“What the fuck does it look like?”

“I didn’t think you would come” she broke into a soft smile.

“Well you thought wrong” he took his eyes off her, hoping she would leave.

“It will mean a lot to y/n”

“Yeah alright. Can you just go back to your seat now?” Rafe snapped.

Sarah just nodded and giggled to herself, knowing how uncomfortable he was to be here, but still liking y/n enough to show up.

The curtains opened and music started playing. He frowned when he saw the first dancers appearing on stage, he couldn’t understand the hype about all this, but the second y/n appeared on stage he was hypnotised. His expression softened and he became totally unaware of his surroundings. She looked so beautiful, so angelic and absolutely hot! The way she moved her body in that outfit and the way her long legs, in those tights, danced over the stage. She was the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on and he had to admit how watching her dance made his dick twitch. He readjusted himself in his seat and snapped back to reality for a second. He wouldn’t take his eyes of her and he knew this wouldn’t be the last performance he would go watch.

[chil2de]

Hi!! if possible can i please request yuuta having a girlfriend that’s his childhood friend? (So like instead of rika it’s y/n and she doesn’t die) that loves to dote on him cause that boy needs some love. Thank you!! <3

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE THIS MADE ME SO SOFT!!!!! ohmygod!!!! growing up with yuuta would be THE best onshdhfsh thank you sososos much anon this was such a pleasure to write! i don’t know why but the “and she doesn’t die” had me screaming LMFAOOOO

enjoy! no warnings, just old fashioned cute fluff and heart wrenching moments! thank you for giving me the opportunity to write for the best boy mwaaah you deserve eternal happiness! hope no insects bite you during these warm months <3

“okkotsu!” you cried out, feminine and shrill voice ringing in the air. the cicadas chirped melodiously, calling out their delightful songs in the spring air.

the young boy staggered around, losing his balance from spinning too fast. his fragile hands reached out, pulling in small grabby motions towards your innocent and joyous face.

you were always so optimistic, even when you were younger. yuuta could only huff and wail as his caretaker hauled him away from the playground, gesturing it was time for him to come home. thick and messy tears spilled out the corners of his eyes which hadn’t yet endured countless sleep devoid nights.

he was so far away, but that was okay because you knew you’d see him the very next day.

“okkotsu! promise to play with me again tomorrow!” you cupped your hands, exclaiming as much as your little lungs could endure. yuuta could see the tears heavy in your gaze, but even then, you prevailed. you grinned, all for him.

ever since the very start. till ‘death do us apart.

-

“okkotsu! come oooon, don’t cry, okay? (y/n)’s got your back! see, see?! look! they don’t bite!” you braved a smirk on your features, beckoning the shy and introverted young man over. his face looked uncertain and his lips wobbled as though he could crack at any moment. he took a few cautious steps, maintaining his distance between you and the furry animal on the floor.

“r-really? it won’t bite?” he coughed, reaching his unstable fingertips out.

“eh?! that’s the first time you’ve spoken to me! your voice is so nice! it’s so cool! hey! can i hear it again? pleaaaase? i know you’re shy but i’d really like to hear it! hey, okkotsu, say my name? pretty please?”

“um- i, uh.. it’s okay.. you can call me yuuta.”

-

“yuuta! you’re going to be late for your first day of junior high! i totally told you to wake up on time too!” you stood with your hands rested firmly on your hips, face stern and tone impatient.

“sorry! sorry- it’s um, my hair. i don’t know how to style it.” he admitted, albeit sheepishly by trailing the last few words off into a murmur. you only gave him a sigh before kneeling down behind him, propping yourself up to take a look at his hair in the reflection of the mirror.

“how on earth are you so tall already? we eat the same food, you know. slouch over a little.” you pinched his cheeks before glossing over his hair.

when you ran your fingertips through his hair, you felt butterflies and anxiety rock your stomach.

that’s never been there before.

you’ve touched yuuta countless times, whether that was accidentally hitting him, holding his hand to cross the street…

so why was it different?

you could feel yuuta’s body tense up and run rigid underneath your touch.

that definitely wasn’t there before.

“relax. it’s me.” you cooed quietly, roughing up his hair into different styles.

“like this? looks like you just woke up, sorta, but i think it’s cute.”

yuuta’s heart rate skyrocketed through the roof and his breath hitched.

“cute?” he reiterated, chewing out the phrase like he’d never heard it before in his life.

“hm? yeah-“

you caught his gaze in the mirror, eyes half lidded and attention averted. the tips of his ears were tainted a deep red with small flicks of blush painting his cheeks.

“eh?! nononono- not like that i’m- i just think it suits you, you know? oh, crap, would you look at the time? okay we gotta go and leave!” you clambered out of his bedroom, thudding the door shut behind you.

yuuta only gawked at you with bewilderment, lips slightly parted and fingertips outstretched in his failed attempt to stop you.

he turned to himself in the mirror, studying his features before running one hand through his jet black locks.

“cute, huh?” he muttered, avoiding his own judgemental gaze.

-

the bittersweet part about growing up with a childhood friend is change.

for all the time that you’d spent with yuuta, you didn’t realise that your relationship with him was something to not take for granted.

especially with those around you who would kill for what you two have.

you’d always get mundane questions from high school girls who thought they could have a shot with him, “what’s his type?” “do you think he likes me?”

meanwhile you only played along with their charades, laughing inwardly when he was actually extremely introverted.

“so? what’s the deal with you and okkotsu-san? you guys dating?”

“no. we’re just friends.”

“seriously? you guys are always glued at the hip. you know he has a picture of you in his locker, right?”

“yeah? so do i. it doesn’t mean anything.”

“it’s kind of a shame, he’s such a nice young man.. gone to waste like that..”

“what’s gone to waste?” yuuta inquired with an indifferent tone, plopping down beside you with his bento box. the classmate sat opposite you only gave him a phony cheerful temperament, twirling her index finger around her hair.

“oh! okkotsu-senpai! we were just talking about you! how was your da-“

“please leave.”

you could only gape at him in your peripherals, sputtering on your sandwich as you watched the life drain from your classmate at his monotony. yuuta didn’t spare you or the girl a glance as he worked to unpack his lunch, hell the guy even murmured a small itadakimasu as if nothing happened.

“wh- okkotsu senpai?”

“listen.” he let out a deep sigh before proceeding.

“whatever shot you thought you had with me? it’s gone out the window. don’t disrespect (y/n) in front of me like that again.”

“you’re making us uncomfortable, so get up and go.” he motioned with his chopsticks, giving her a dead gaze towards another table.

the girl scoffed, mouth hung wide open as she picked up her bag and stormed out of sight.

whilst your face was as blank as a stone, internally, you were only screaming in the depths of piping hot hell visible from the sun itself.

baby girl? that was when you noticed how fucking fine of a man yuuta grew up to be.

“that was seriously nerve wracking.. my stomach hurts so bad right now” yuuta coughed through a bite of his sandwich, refusing to meet your gaze.

you slapped his back, because, holy shit??? awe painted your face like you just witnessed your own child talking or walking for the first time.

“what the shit? yuuta? are you kidding?”

“oh, huh? did i overdo it or something?“

“no?! are you kidding? that was fucking awesome! i swear! this is why i love you-“

oh.

uh oh.

oh no.

yuuta let out a shrill squeak unbeknownst to any human being able to produce such a volume. it was a cross between a floorboard creaking, a mouse sniffing and him choking on his food. the poor boy had to excuse himself to the bathroom, hacking and sniffling in an ugly fit of coughs from the food that got caught in his windpipe.

your blood rushed to your head, veins lit ablaze, bones rattling as you could hear the chatter pound and drill into your skull, scoring you deep and down into your bones.

“did she just say she loves him?”

“i totally knew they were going out!”

“i can’t believe it…”

“do you think he’ll reject her?”

it replayed over, and over, and over. what a fucking fool you felt. did he even feel the same?

that’s why i love you.

i love you.

i love you.

a blob of black clouded your vision and you could hear the glass breaking.

yuuta sat himself back down, excusing himself.

you could hear nothing but the tune of his heartbeat. or was it yours? it sounded too heavy to belong in either of your bodies.

his voice came as a wobble because of his anxiety, but this was the one thing in his life he’d be absolutely certain of.

“that’s okay. i love you too.”

-

“yuuta? you okay? you’ve been spacing out for at least five minutes. something on your mind?” you lightly shake your boyfriend, grip reassuring but firm. it takes a couple of seconds for his gaze to gloss over as he returns back to reality.

“sorry. was just thinking about our childhood, that’s all.” his voice comes out deep and masculine. it doesn’t have that tremor as it used to before, like he’d break down at any minute.

you can say with absolute certainty as you stare up your entire 5’10 boyfriend that he’s matured well.

his hand snakes around to your waist, pulling you into him for comfort.

some ways better than others, you suppose.

“can we stay home today?” he hums, resting his chin on top of your head,

“same as ever, yuuta, aren’t you? it’s fine, i’ll tell nobara my period’s making me act up. she’ll understand-“

“hm? you’re not due for another week though, right?”

you crease your eyebrows as you type out an apology to nobara for cancelling plans, glancing up at yuuta curiously.

“how the heck do you know that?”

“i’m not supposed to? i’d always count your cycle so i wouldn’t irritate you on the wrong day. besides, don’t you think it was too convenient for you to always find snacks in your locker when it rolled around?”

“those snacks were you?! oh my god! i was trying to figure that out for forever!”

“i know. i remember you ranting to me about it.”

“you just sat there?! yuuta! you’re so cheeky sometimes, i swear!”

“only for you.” he chimes, peppering a soft kiss onto your head. you smile against him, though unfortunately pry out of his familiar and welcoming touch.

“i’m gonna step out for a second tho, ‘kay? i think that’s itadori at the door with my chocolate and painkillers” you snort, giving yuuta a bold wink as you put on your best act, keeling over and clutching at your abdomen as though you’re on death’s door.

“you’re awful.” yuuta chuckles, slumping down onto the sofa to hear the events unfold right in front of him.

you clear your throat and slouch your shoulders as you pry the apartment door open.

“(y/n)-senpai! i came as fast as i could and i brought you some of your favourite sna- oh, okkotsu-senpai! hello!”

“hi there.” he leans his head back, giving itadori a small wave.

“i won’t interrupt you guys so get well soon! and fast! cause i wanna hang out with you! bye!”

you cradle the necessities itadori brought whilst gleaming at yuuta with a wicked grin plastered on your face from ear to ear.

“you want anything?” you cock an eyebrow, showing him the arrangement of snacks.

it’s not the answer you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t unwelcome. it made you feel warm inside, like eating warm and soothing soup on a cold winter’s day. this, for you, was okkotsu yuuta at his best, stripped clean and vulnerable.

you’re the only one who he can relax around, act like the world is carefree. like he’s young again, prancing around in that dingy colourful playground he met you at.

“i want you to kiss me.”

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze, Chapter 7

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Lots of pics, Cursing, Angsty Angst, Mention of Death, Lots of Plot, Anthony Ramos, Afro Samurai, Clothes altering, SMUT: Fingering, Thumb sucking, Fluff. 18+.

Word Count: 6.6 K 

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal and nursing his broken heart post pandemic. 

Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, movie star.  They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were chaotic. She knows now that wasn’t love. 

Read the Previous Chapter.

--------

Thursday night/Friday, May 6-7, 2023

After Daveed heard what you said, he stood stock still, trying to decide whether or not to go back into your room.  He clenched his fists and concentrated intensely to not break the fucking door down. All he needed was for you to call his name…

You stood in the middle of your room, naked except for the towel.  You closed your eyes and prayed for strength to not go running after him. You had to stay in control.  

But if you saw him turn your door handle, you would fuck him right there on the floor of your room.

After a few minutes, you both turned around and went about your business, Daveed to his room and you to the shower. You thought of Daveed in the shower and fell into bed still thinking of him. 

What did you want for your birthday, if not Daveed?

Daveed, alone in his bed, thought of all the feelings involved.  He knew you were fragile, but it seemed you were relaxing a bit, deciding to trust him if just a little.

He resolved to give a little bit of chase. You just needed to feel safe and accepted. 

You dreamt of each other so deeply that all that was left when you woke up was a wisp of a memory.

------

Daveed did not sleep long.  Even though it was after 4 o’clock when he went to sleep, he was up by 10, hard on raging under the sheets.  

He’d be damned if he jerked off, but he remembered your voice through the door of the room last night, and he had to strip the sheets away, as he was making a mess at the thought of you.  

He decided to go for a run on the beach. He pulled on some basketball shorts and decided to go shirtless, as the temperature outside was already 80 degrees.

Daveed ran with his music blasting in his ears.  He played out song lyrics and lined up preparation for upcoming roles.  Before he knew it, he was three miles down the beach from the house.

He turned around as the tropical heat and the sun was getting to be a bit much. He went back in and went to his room to shower and put some clothes on. You didn’t know the sight you were missing.

When you woke up at Noon, you pulled on Mark's t-shirt and basketball shorts and made your way to the kitchen which had floor to ceiling windows and glass doors facing the ocean. It was breathtaking. The doors were open and the ocean breeze felt amazing.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" 

You turned to see Daveed at the stove, greeting you and smiling. 

He was wearing an orange Oakland tank top and some pajama pants slung low on his hips. You smiled at his hair, which was tied up in two curly puffs at the front, with the back down in his wild curls.  

Even though it was an odd hairstyle for a grown man, you knew the curl life. And it did not take away from his masculinity.  

Not. At. All.

Besides, his curly puffs gave you a place to focus rather than on his well-muscled arms.  

Daveed’s hair reminded of when your mom did your hair only to have Dell try to pull your pony tails out as soon as she dismissed you from the kitchen chair. 

Ya’ll would get into so much trouble for fighting yet again. The thought gave you a warm feeling at the memory as you smiled wider and patted your own pineappled hair. 

‘Damn, her smile is a killer,’ Daveed thought as he watched you look around the kitchen for other signs of life. Now he was glad that he couldn’t sleep, and that he decided to be productive.  

He would have the chance to talk to you. As friends. Yeah.  He nodded to himself, trying to emphasize that last thought.  Friends.

Fuck.  He was in serious trouble.

Noticing that you and he were the only two humans in the kitchen and sniffing the air for the delicious smell that was wafting over from the stove, you finally greeted Daveed.

"Good morning, D.  Looks like everyone else is still knocked the fuck out.” 

Your other four friends were nowhere to be found.

You laughed, yawned and stretched.  Daveed turned back to the stove, cursing to himself. You were so damn fine.

“Calm the fuck down boy,” he whispered.

“What’s that?” 

You ventured over to see Diggs making French toast and bacon. Your stomach rumbled.

"I said sit down. Sounds like you’re hungry, haha. We gotta feed you. Grab some fruit over there and I'll serve you right up."

You grabbed something and sat down at the bar facing the windows. When Diggs turned to offer you some fresh oj, you didn't notice him watching you eat your banana. 

Your lips were a problem for him. When you looked away from the ocean, Daveed turned back to the stove and looked over his shoulder to smile at you.

His smile made you feel some kind of way.

"Why do they call you ‘Smiley?’" 

Daveed laughed, a sound that was quite nice.

“Because I started out as a clown. A professional clown.” 

You tilted your head, convinced that he was fucking with you. But maybe, he and Rafa always talked about the random shit they did to make money before they made it.

When he winked and turned back to the stove to the food, you just shook your head and ate the rest of your banana, positive that Daveed was fucking with you.

Meanwhile, Diggs was trying to stop himself from thinking about fucking with you. He did not need to watch you eat a banana. He licked his lips as he thought of how your lips tasted.

You smiled at Diggs’ broad back. He seemed different this morning.

He turned to plate some food for you and smiled again, shaking his head.

“Most times it’s a nervous tick.”

You were confused. “What’s a nervous tick?”

“My smile. I'm actually a really shy person.  Most times my smile is a defense mechanism.”

You were not sure about all that. Daveed had to know how he affected people.

“I’m not sure I believe that. Man. You are famous for performing in front of hundreds of people a night.  You’re on tv, movies, for goodness sake! You do live rap shows with your shirt off. I ain’t boo boo the fool.”

Daveed’s laugh filled the kitchen.

“How many clipping. shows did you watch on YouTube?  Or did you only watch the ones where I'm shirtless?” 

His look was hungry, and surprised, like he couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. Then he barrelled on.

“I am shy, but I get my energy from crowds. I'm an introverted extrovert. Ya feel me?"

You nodded, understanding. You noticed that he was fiddling with the spatula he had in his hand. Uncertain again. He really was awkward. It was sweet. And hot.

Diggs continued.

"When I perform, I'm probably under the influence."

Pause.

"Hold up. What?" 

You flashed back to Mark. You couldn’t be around this again. Daveed caught your panicked look.

"Oh, it’s not like that, haha."  

That laugh and that smile. It automatically put you at ease. 

"It just takes a little. Drink; like last night at Criag��s Adrenaline; when I used to run track. Now it's performing." 

Daveed watched you carefully, gauging whether or not to continue. Fuck it, he thought. He felt as comfortable with you as when he first met Rafa.

"You know what the best drug is?" 

You cocked your head to the side, intrigued despite yourself. That smile. It was angelic and so opposite of what came out of his mouth next.

"Fucking. You know? When it's that good good. Or even better, that feeling when you haven't smashed, but the sexual tension is everything?"

There was suddenly little air in the room. You had to open your mouth to get oxygen. Oh. You knew the feeling alright. You gulped down your orange juice and continued eating.

"Hard-dick dopamine delivers every time." 

He said it so casually. He was playing innocent, but he was going for it.

You choked on your bacon. Daveed came up beside you.

"Raise your arms above your head.”

You turned toward him, held your arms up and he helped you, his hands holding your hands up. You stopped coughing pretty quickly but you stared at each other with your small wrists in his large hands. Daveed shifted on his feet and cleared his throat.  

“You good?" His voice had to be a couple of octaves lower. 

You gaped for a second, mouth still open, then laughed and nodded, pulling your arms slightly to get him to release them.  Daveed let go, stepped back and laughed along.

"But yeah. Back to what we were talking about...It just takes a little high, and I'm a completely different person." 

You watched him as he crossed his chocolate arms. 

"So what's your drug? Your motivation?"

That was something you didn't want to think about too hard. You tried to avoid his eyes. You cleared your throat and took another drink.  

“You got any vodka for this orange juice?”

-------

“C’mon. I made you this gourmet breakfast and everything…” You could hear the smile in his voice even though you were looking down. You didn’t feel pressed, you just felt like telling D this would open up so many things to him.

"Well, I don't do hard drugs if that's what you mean. No pills, or coke. Don't need molly," you winked and filled your mouth with French toast. 

"Gosh. This food is amazing!"

Daveed could barely make out the words through the food in your mouth.  He shook his head.

"Thanks, but don’t play me Lindy. Is french toast your motivation?"

Diggs wasn't letting you off the hook. You thought about it.  He was being very cool, and you felt safe with him.  You plunged ahead.

"I think about how fragile life is. How it is not guaranteed from day to day. How it can be taken away in a moment." 

You tried to push the emotions down and took a deep breath.

"I lost my twin brother when we were 17 in a car accident. I think a lot about what he didn't get to do. And that motivates me to do better with my life."

Daveed just looked down at the counter, mortified that he had pushed you to share something so personal. Then he finally looked up at you.

"That's a good reason to be motivated. I'm sorry for your loss." He looked down at his plate again.  "Look, I didn't mean to press you...."

Telling Daveed about Dell just felt right, even though you really didn’t know him like that.

"Don't apologize.  You didn't know. And I'm glad I told you." 

Diggs looked up at her and smiled. You smiled back.

He got up and stood next to you to grab your plate. Daveed smelled like coconut. It was nice. You closed your eyes and sniffed him.

"You done?" He was laughing at you.

"What? Oh, yeah. Thanks."

"Where is the fooood?"

Craig padded in the kitchen, with a wide smile. 

"There you are." You grinned at your cousin.

"Goood morningggg peopleeeee! I smell the Diggs Special. Hey. You two fuck last night?”

Rafa came in already on one this morning. Unlike his best friend, his confidence seemed to seldom waver.

He ignored your shocked looks and Craig’s laughter and went to get some food.  He continued as if he just walked in and said, “Good morning.”

"Ay, D, you gonna go check out this venue in town with me?"

Daveed shook his head at his friend. But he was chilling.

"Sure, what up?"

"I figure we can turn up on stage tonight"

"Cool. Let me eat and chill a little bit before we go." He looked at his watch. "About two?"

"Dope."

Jasmine walked into the kitchen. 

“Lindy needs to go shopping. We should come with.  You down, Craig?”

“You know it. That reminds me, we gotta fix you up.  Start destroying Daveed’s pants, since Lindy won’t do it for real.”

“Y’all gonna get enough…” you were getting swole.

“Calm down Ms. Fussy pants. Let’s go.”

Craig grabbed some shears from the kitchen and went toward Lindy’s room.

When you got to your room, Craig gave you the business.

"You are so tiresome."

“What?”

“You just need to fuck the man. We are all tired of feeling this sexual tension. It’s bothersome.”

“Leave me alone, Craig.” You watched as he worked his magic on the jeans. “What if I don’t want t…”

“Lie.”

“What if I’m not read…”

“Fuck that.”

“What if he hurts me? What if I hurt him?”

Craig put the shears down and turned toward you.  

“Listen, stop over thinking and do what you feel. What you want. Turn up. It’s your birthday. Anybody can see that man is all about you.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. But you deserve…” He didn’t say it. 

“You deserve. Now put these clothes on, bitch.”

----- 

You emerged from the room and no one paid any particular attention to you, no one but Daveed. 

His eyes swept from your feet, which were housed in some of Jasmine’s high heeled sandals, to your long, brown legs which were highly moisturized and seemed to go on and get better from your juicy calves to your generous, muscular thighs. 

Craig had cut and distressed some jeans that Daveed didn't particularly love to garments that he felt he could not live without. 

On you. 

Damn, Daveed gaped as he remembered that you probably didn’t have any underwear on. 

His eyes moved up to notice how his blue Oaklandish t-shirt was huge, but the way you had it tied up let it accentuate your waist, breasts and shoulders.

‘Good God,’ he thought. As his eyes moved up to yours, he saw that you noticed his reaction and were smiling at him. He smiled back. He wanted you to wear nothing but his destroyed and altered clothing for the rest of your life.

“OKAYYYYYYY, you look cute as hell.” Jasmine admired your outfit.  

“Thank you!”  Craig responded. 

“Yes, you did that!” Jas laughed.  “And the model ain’t half bad.” Jasmine got up, took your hand and had you twirl.

“Got DAMN!”  

Everyone turned and looked at Rafa as he yelled.  He put his hand over his mouth. “Oh, did I say that out loud?”

Daveed was so grateful that you did not have any of your own clothes. Your ass in those distressed shorts were everything. He gulped and you and Jasmine giggled.

“Be quiet!” 

Anthony shushed everybody and then gave you a double take. 

“Nice, Lindy,” but then he turned back to the tv. He was used to Jasmine’s glorious ass, so he was nonplussed. 

“Let’s just finish this episode before we go. It’s my favorite,” he said as Jasmine went back over to sit down with him.

Black Dynamite was on the tv while they were waiting. It was the alien episode. 

Ant and Jas were curled up in a big white overstuffed chair, Craig was on the other,while Daveed and Rafa were on the couch. You sat down in between them. 

You leaned your head on Rafa’s shoulder, looking at Daveed. Rafa put his arm around you, watching the show, as you put your legs up on Digg’s knees. 

You didn’t see Rafa wink at Daveed, who just smiled at you and turned toward the screen. After a couple of minutes, he put his hand on your shins, looking over to see if it was okay.  

Your chill smile indicated your assent.  He started lightly rubbing, looking down at your caramel skin. Your legs were so soft. 

Diggs peeked up at you relaxing and accepting his touch, and snuggling into Rafa’s embrace.  The way you were looking at him was everything, even if you were in Rafa’s arms. 

Rafa was his boy. And he knew what you wanted. As for Daveed and you, you two were watching each other and not the screen.

Daveed decided to move his hand up your leg, but a flash went off and he stopped. He hadn’t noticed that the show was over and that Craig was taking pictures. 

"This is so cute! Family love!" 

He was cheesing as he snapped a wide-angle selfie and some pics. Jasmine came and sat on your lap, the couch becoming a crazy twister game. 

Anthony came behind the couch and snuck in the pics with the crazy eyes flipped a double bird behind Rafa’s head. You were all being so silly.

"What is this, a orgy?” Rafa with the jokes. 

“Not that I’m saying there’s anything wrong with that.” That devilish smile. Everybody laughed. 

“Y’all are some beautiful people, but ain’t nobody got time for that. Let's go."

Anthony seemed hype.  He slapped his hands together and then rubbed them.

“Okay, we have a choice, since we are going into town we can drive….” he looked around at everyone.  “OR, we can go over in my new boat!”

Everyone sensed that there wasn’t really a choice, so they all said, “Boat!” and laughed.  

Anthony’s grin was wide as fuck.  Jasmine harshed the flow.

“The only thing is, it only has four seats…”  Everyone looked around and counted six people. Ant spoke up.  

“I’ll be piloting, so I will stand, but it takes about 20-30 minutes, soooooooo…..”

“Sooooooo, Lindy… would you mind sitting on D’s lap? We need to get creative.” 

Her eyes sparkled as she smirked. 

“Would that be okay with you Diggs?”

Rafa coughed “Setup” into his hand.

You looked at Jasmine and Anthony and Daveed, who was looking at you expectantly.  You were in agreement with Rafa, but you weren’t mad. It seemed that everyone was looking at you.

“Sure…” said Daveed whose eyes were fixed on you.  “Is that okay with you, Lindy?” 

You smiled and nodded your head.  “I’m cool with it.”   Daveed smiled wide, eyes crinkling with happiness.

Jasmine and Anthony led you all out onto the back deck, where you and Jas took off your heels, and down to the beach, a little ways away to the boat dock.  You and Daveed brought up the rear of the little ensemble.

You were watching the waves and the beautiful surroundings, trying not to focus on the awkwardness. 

Daveed was watching you.

“You good Lindy?” 

Daveed’s voice broke your reverie.

“Yeah.” 

You two stopped and looked at each other.  Your head was tilted back, looking into D’s eyes. He smiled down at you and you felt warm.  Must have been the sun.

“Heyyyy youuu guuuysss!”  

Daveed nodded his head toward the boat. 

“Leggo.”

You smiled and followed him. Ant was at the helm, Jasmine and Rafa were at the front, and Craig was in the second row.  

Daveed stepped on the boat and turned around offering you his hand. You flashed back to that January night.

You swallowed, smiled and tried to board. And immediately fell when you misjudged the deck while stepping on the boat.

Daveed helped you up, chuckling, while Craig howled and Rafa shook his head. Jasmine just stared, open mouthed, said “That’s not funny,” then burst out laughing.

Anthony was busy getting the boat ready but had a grin on his face.

“Fuck all y’all!”

“No, not all of us, just D…”

“Shut the fuck up Craig.”  You gave him the gas face and then turned and smiled at Daveed.

Daveed was seated and spread his arms out so you could sit down.  Anthony started the engine, so you got settled in on his lap as carefully as you could.  

“You okay?” you asked him softly, turning on his lap and feeling the muscles in his thighs. And maybe something else. 

You tried to adjust your shorts to cover your core adequately, because like this, he would easily be able to ascertain your situation.

Daveed looked into your eyes and whispered, “I’m perfect.”

You agreed silently as you stared back into his big browns. 

You were thrown against Daveed’s chest as the boat gained speed. You were able to feel his abs through his t-shirt and your rear shifted and came into contact with his crotch. 

‘This is going to be a fun ride,’ you thought, smiling to yourself.

Daveed put his arms around you, one at your waist and one on your legs, to try and hold you steady.  The movement of the boat allowed him to feel you, just as he wanted.  

He turned his head and looked at the water, concentrating on keeping his hands in neutral locations.

Jas looked over at you.  “You okay?” she mouthed.

You smiled and nodded, giggling a little.

D turned his head back quickly to look at your face. You looked at him and winked. He smiled and unknowingly started stroking your leg.

You stopped laughing and all of your attention turned to his hand on your leg. You adjusted yourself in Daveed’s lap. You were getting a little moist and could feel his cock becoming hard. 

Your lips parted and you started breathing a little faster.

The feel of you on his lap was what was up. There was a definite heat from your core. Daveed happened to look down at his t- shirt on you and saw that your nipples were hard.  

All he wanted was for them to be in his mouth and to be enveloped in your heat.

Daveed turned his head to look at everyone else to see if they noticed you two, and his lips brushed your shoulder.  He heard your sharp intake of breath.

Geez, he felt like he could take you on the boat in front of everyone. By the way your body was reacting, he thought that you would let him.  

He finally noticed he was stroking your leg and stopped himself.  He sat up straighter and tried to get control.

You closed your eyes and moaned a little when Daveed pulled away.  All you wanted at that moment was him inside you. When you opened your eyes, Daveed was looking at you.

“You sure you’re comfortable? I could sit on the boat deck if you want.”

“No!” you said a little too loudly.  Craig smirked at you.

You blushed, then relaxed again in D’s arms. How could a moment be so awkward, yet so perfect?.  

After about 20 minutes, the view of the pretty little town of Isabela became clear.  It looked like a neat spot to spend the day, but you were sad that the boat ride was over.

As the boat came to a stop and tied off at the dock, you and Daveed let everyone get off before them, then D climbed out, turned around and held out his hand for you.  

You took it and stepped out onto the dock. You didn’t let go and Daveed didn’t either. No one said anything, just exchanged glances as you and Daveed concentrated on being casual with it.  

Truth be told, each of your hearts were pounding in your chest.  

This is another world. You could be free and do what you wanted to do.  And what you wanted to do was to hold Daveed’s hand.

Daveed’s chest was puffed out, proud that you decided to show affection. In front of the crew. 

This was a big step but he tried not to make it a big deal.  

You strolled together and admired the architecture, holding his hand until you walked to the shopping center on Barbosa Street.

They were going to check out a venue to do a show later in the weekend. Daveed didn’t want to let you go.

Rafa and Ant just walked on and let Daveed handle his business. 

“Go to work.” 

You smiling at him was everything, as Daveed played with your hand, moving it up to lace his fingers in yours and press your palm upright.

Jas and Craig went into the store.

“It’s not work. Having fun creating with friends…”  

Daveed really wanted to create fun with you. He felt like he should kiss you goodbye, but he didn’t want to push it.

“Bye Daveed.  See you in a few.” 

You laughed, cause it was like he was going off to war. This was too much.

“Bye Linden…” 

He finally let your hand go and then backed up the street in the direction that his bros went, not wanting to let you out of his sight. 

When you disappeared into the store, he turned and ran to catch up.

------

Rafa and Anthony were talking to the club owner in Spanish, Daveed following along, but not very well.  He thought they were talking about lighting and sound, but couldn’t get the entire conversation.

“Tienes tu propio gaffer o tenemos que hacer nuestra propia iluminación?”

“Nosotros tenemos un capataz, pero él cobra una tarifa separada.”

Daveed zoned out and planned how he was going to get closer to you.

Rafa turned to him and said something, and Daveed nodded. 

“Oh, absolutely.”

 He had not one clue what was happening in this club right now.  His mind was on you.  Rafa and Ant looked at each other.

“So, when they bring up the pigs in tutus, we cut one open and smear the blood all over you…” 

Anthony wanted to see if Daveed was paying attention.

Daveed smiled. “Sounds dope.”

Rafa and Ant shook their heads at him.

“Listen dude, your head is not in the game right now. You need to get right.”

They didn't have to tell him twice. 

------

You were going to town.  Craig and Jasmine had abandoned you and were already down at Pinkheart and Loft.  You were not moving from H & M.

You didn’t mind being alone in the store, as you minored in shopping in undergrad. You were in the zone. And zoned out from what was happening with Daveed. You needed some headspace.

Your hands were full of clothes and your heart was feeling light as you headed toward the dressing room. 

You could barely see over your pile when the cute top you just recently grabbed off a clearance rack fell on the floor as you rushed ahead.  You walked past it before you realized, then went back to try and pick it up.

You jumped as soon as you turned around.

Daveed was standing there with your top in his hand.

"Drop something?"  That smile was everything.

You stared at him wide-eyed. 

‘Fuck. Me.’ Daveed thought. 

"Here, let me take your pile, I'll help you to the register."

You smiled at him again. He'd do anything to see that smile forever.

"Oh, ok. Thanks." 

You handed over the clothes to reveal a handful of sandals underneath which you kept. Daveed slowed himself to appreciate you fully.

“I really like that shirt on you.” Daveed bit his lip. “And those shorts..”

You saw him checking you out and you watched him, your eyes fixed on his lips. 

You recalled the talk about what mouths could do from months ago but were thinking about his succulent lips. And you couldn’t stop.

You needed to remain in control.

"I'm not going to the register, I'm going to try these on.  You can drop them at the fitting room." 

Daveed looked around to tear his eyes away from you.  He caught you checking him out when he swung his eyes back around.  His stomach flipped a little.  

He smiled.

"Well."

You were at the fitting room, the attendant eyeing Daveed as he gave you a number and pointed you to a stall.  

You took the 10 garments you were allowed and started to go into to your fitting room, looking back at him over your shoulder. You disappeared into the room.

Daveed just stood there.

He made a decision.

You stood there for a minute, shook, before you thought you had yourself together. You were about to take off his shirt when Daveed opened the door at came in.

The look on your face was everything.  The wide eyes, that mouth in an "O." So damn fuckable.

"The guy out there said I could bring you the rest of your clothes."

That was true, after Daveed paid him 20 dollars.

He got close to you, reached behind you and put the clothes on the hook.

You could smell him. He smelled like the coconut and his cologne, and your dreams.  You closed your eyes.

Daveed wanted your lips. He wanted to own them, to command them, to hear them command him.

You opened your eyes and he backed up.  He tried to contain himself despite your proximity.

“Look. Daveed. That night. The launch party. I was wasted. I usually don’t lose control like that… I don’t want you to think that’s really me.”

You were keyed up and stressed because you were losing control.  He could tell.

God, he wanted to put his hands on you. In a good way. You’d calm down then.

He knew you had baggage.  And that he should probably stay away.  But he didn't want to.  Hell, he had matching luggage. 

"Well, I think it is you. I have a theory that people are more their real selves when they are drunk or high. Inhibitions are gone. They get to act out like they want to. Do what they want to."

Daveed looked into your eyes.

"What do you want to do, Lindy?"

You wanted to do a lot of things.  To Daveed. In this fitting room. You almost gave it all up for him right there.

Then you got mad. At Daveed or your feelings, you didn’t know.

"That's just it, adults don't get to do what they want to do all the time. It's called adulting, you know. Responsibilities...?" 

You fired back at him.

He opened his mouth and spoke.  To himself as well as you.

"Chill."

He said it gently, not raising his voice at all, but the force behind it made you shut the fuck up. 

Your knees were weak and the small of your back was acting up again. Your body was reacting without your permission. You shivered.

Daveed could tell you were reacting to him physically.  But he wanted inside your mind, not just your body. He was going to give you some space. 

He backed toward the door of the fitting room. Leaning against it, his long body in jeans and t-shirt delectable.

“What do you want, Linden?” 

His voice was deeper, more commanding now. You swallowed. You were exhausted from fighting it. Maybe you could have a taste.

“I-I want a kiss. Just a kiss.”

Daveed felt triumphant.  He smiled and looked down at his shoes, then back up at you.

“Come get it.”  

He was going to let you make the first move.

You bit your lip through a smile.  You walked the five steps toward him in slow motion it seemed, as you raised up on your tiptoes to reach up and peck his lips, your hands behind your back.  

Your lips met his pillowy goodness and you leaned back to look into his eyes.  

Then, you put your hands on his shirt, tracing his abs all the way up and going back in for more, Daveed’s tongue prodding it’s way between your lips, and your tongue dancing with his.

You moaned as Daveed put his hand on your hips and then slid them up the sides of his shirt, skimming your breasts, and resting under your arms as you two went for it. 

He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, as he backed you into the wall. 

He palmed your ass in the shorts, his long fingers reaching inside the distressed rips and squeezing your ass. He spread you apart and squeezed you closed, so that his fingers barely grazed your core and drove you crazy.  

When you reached up and pulled his hair, that’s when he stopped kissing you, leaned his head against your forehead and breathed, “Fuck, Lindy. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You just looked at him and craned your neck for another kiss which he couldn’t deny, but then he stopped and let you down.

“What do you want Daveed?”

Daveed put his hand on the wall above your head. You looked up at it and at him and he had to remember to breathe.

“Fuck it. Linden, I want you. You know that.” 

You raised your eyebrow and smiled up at him, then bit your lip, playful. Daveed’s throat became dry.

“And I think that I know that you want me too. But I know it’s hard.”

Your eyes swept down his torso to his pants, and damn, well…if it wasn’t hard right now.

He cleared his throat.  “It’s hard for YOU.”  You smiled wide. 

He rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean. It’s hard for you to be vulnerable, but Linden, I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

The way he looked in your eyes. You couldn’t go there with him, but the physical was okay for now. You decided to indulge yourself.  It was almost your birthday.

“What if I want you... to hurt me?” 

The innocent look in your eyes masked the devilish intent in your words. Daveed, stomach flipped again and he screwed his eyes shut. He masked a whimper and opened his eyes again.

“Huh. Don’t play with me Linden.” The menacing tone of his voice was making you wet.

“But what if I want to play with you, Daveed?” 

You reached for his belt buckle; Daveed stopped you, grabbed your hand and put it above your head against the wall, his arms now caging you in. 

You raised your chin, meeting his glare with yours. His eyes were fucking you so rough right now. You had to open your mouth to breathe, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip.

Daveed was looking as if he was going to devour you..  That mouth. He wanted to take it, but he restrained himself.  He had to know.

“Tell me. What. You. Want.”

You held his stare, the air around you crackling with energy.

“I want you Daveed.”

His smile was wide. Then he bent down, grabbed your thighs in his hand, picked you up and carried you to the mirror and pressing you against it, running his hands back down your body to your ass, cupping and grabbing it to memorize how it felt.

“We are NOT about to do this in the fitting room at H & M.  But somebody is going to cum. Right now.”

You kissed him as he ran his hands under your shirt to your nipples, pinching and rolling them in between his fingers as he kissed you again.

You started whimpering in your throat as you let him make you wet. 

“God, Daveed.”  

You kissed him again, but he did not stop what he was doing to your breasts.

“What?”  Daveed asked when you came up for air. “You wet?’

“Fuck yes.”  

You moaned as you threw your head back and huffed.

Daveed pulled his shirt up off your waist and exposed your breasts.  

“So fucking beautiful.”  

His mouth watered at the sight. Daveed licked his lips and leaned toward those beauties.

“Can I?”  Daveed paused.

“Please!” You whispered.  

He leaned down. His mouth got so close that you could feel his hot breath. Then he paused again.

“Please what?”

At first you could not think of what he was talking about. Then you got it.

“Please. Sir.”  

Your eyes sparkled under your lashes as you looked down. His dick got even harder.

“Such a Good Girl for me Linden. Fuck.”  

Damn, he had the key to your pussy.

Your wetness was leaking down your thigh, now reaching the tips of Daveed’s fingers.

Daveed proceeded to alternate his attention to each breast. Delicately at first, he kissed your nipples, then suckled them gently, then harder, more insistently, until his mouth was pulling at them rhythmically and firmly, to the point of almost hurting you.

You were groaning pretty loudly and Daveed released a nipple from his tightly clamped lips with an almost painful pop.

“Suck this,” he said, and put his thumb in your mouth, pushing your head back into the mirror. 

While still suckling you, he then moved his other hand down your body to your crotch and stuck his hand into the jean shorts, his long fingers grazing your folds, feeling a small patch of hair and your oh so slick lower lips. 

He looked up at you and how you were enthusiastically sucking his thumb, fellating it like it could cum down your throat.  That sight and feeling, combined with how you felt at your core, was fucking him up.

“Damn, Lindy? All this. For me? You sure?”

You nodded vigorously, his thumb deep in your mouth as he kept you pressed to the mirror. He found your clit and started rubbing, while inserting a finger into you. 

You were so fucking tight, it was a stretch to fit two in, but you were humming with pleasure now, your eyes rolling back in your head.

You nodded again, and as he pried your mouth open, your sounds became louder before he put his mouth on yours and kissed you, muffling your moans as his thumb and fingers worked in concert to bring you close to the edge. 

You tried to reach for his belt buckle again and he moved out of the way.

“Unh unh, it’s not about me right now.” 

Daveed grunted. He spun you around and had you face the mirror, his hand in your mouth and your pants, and his cock pressed into your ass.

It was big and your eyes matched it. You two stared at each other.

“Look at us.  Don’t we look good together? This should be a thing.”  

You watched what he was doing to you and it did look hot as fuck.

He pressed deeper into you through your pants.  He could feel you quiver on his fingers. 

“You want it Lindy?”

Daveed could feel your clit harden and vibrate like a guitar string.

“Maybe later, but you could cum… not now…” 

You whimpered around his thumb, but he sped up.  

“Not now…”

You were almost crying now. Daveed was smiling, his teeth bared against the shell of your ear, whispering his commands to you.

“NNNNot now….” 

Your legs were shaking from holding it.

“Good girl. Now cum.”  

Daveed spoke into your ear and you exploded from the inside out. It had been months since anyone else made you cum.

He reached down and grabbed you under your knees and sat down with you on the fitting room bench. You were draped around him like a vine, exhausted.

D held you for a few, taking care of you and waiting for his hard on to go down. You clung to him, eyes closed, trying not to panic. This was good. You wanted this.  And you told him so.

“Me too, Lindy.”  

He helped you stand and stood himself, standing behind you and watching you straighten yourself out in the mirror.  He pulled you back against him, wrapping his arms around your front and putting his chin next to your forehead.

“I meant what I said, Linden.  We look good together.  Let this be a thing.”  

You just smiled at him as you thought about the weekend to come.

-------

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[casmybelovedass]

The Destiel Folder: Season 6

[Season 4; Season 5] Man, this season... an emotional rollercoaster

Episode 3:

Cas admits he and Dean "share a more profound bond." (15:35) uuuhmm okay

"You think I came because you called?" (16:31) cut to "I always come when you call" later on in E21

"When a claim is laid on a living sould, it leaves a mark, a brand." ... like a handprint maybe? (22:33) Cas basically called dibs on Dean and admits it

Dean, I get it, Cas looks hot when he fights, but you don't have to look at him like this (24:42)

The amount of eye-fucking in this scene (25:56) almost 30 seconds (of Dean checking out Cas) of Old married coupleTM moments. Dean is worried about Cas dying again by the hands of an archangel. He just got attacked and wants to go out. But Cas has to go save the universe from a holy war. Basically a wife asking her soldier husband not to leave for the war.

[(26:28-26:30) Dean was totally looking at the BOOTY]

NOW FOR THE JUICY STUFF: Cas and Balthazar obviously had a history. More than brothers or war buddies. We could parallel them to Dean and Lisa: both old flames coming back after a long time and all.

Also, Balthazar can sense something is going on between Cas and Dean. It's so clear he can (35:26). ICWAW, we would assume Balthazar was an ex, getting jealous over Cas' new love interest

Episode 6:

"You asked me to be here, and I came", OH what about the whole 'I don't come because you call' thing? (13:40)

How domestic is this moment. Cas pouring Dean a drink, trying to comfort him (14:03). He hates seeing Dean like this, and hates even more the fact he can't do anything about it

Cas knows Dean is hurt enough already, and doesn't want to get him involved with a war that's not his to fight (14:20), but still wants to help

Episode 7:

Second time Cas starts stripping in front of Dean and he just stares (2:32)

Look, all I'm saying is... they really don't have to stand THAT CLOSE to each other (4:07)

Episode 9:

[Not a destiel moment but Dean struggling to say the words "gay guy" is too fucking funny to me (33:45)]

Episode 10:

Dean, will you not check out the angel in front of your brother, please? (11:54)

Dean is visibly uncomfortable at Cas watching porn practically NEXT to him, and having a BONER practically next to him. Understandable, but still... kinda gay (15:58) Look at Dean's face, my God (16:07)

[I'm screaming Dean looks like he's wondering what it'd be like to kiss Cas (25:29)]

"CAS?!" (26:23) the way Dean gets progressively more worried about Cas fading/being taken away and shit, kills me

[Cas is so fucking confused as to why Dean would suggest he'd let him have an hour alone with Meg (39:25), either that or he's embarrassed he might've actually wanted to. Meg and Castiel were cute together]

"If there's anything we can do-" "There isn't. I wish circumstances were different. *stares at Dean with puppy eyes* Much of the time, I'd rather be here." (39:46)

Also, Dean stares at Cas for 15 seconds, but averts his eyes when saying "We're your friends"? (40:01) Denial? Something's off. ICWAW, this would indicate tension, unspoken feelings

Just... the way Dean looks at Cas, and when he flies away (40:17) HIS EYES

Episode 11:

Balth jokingly calls Cas Sam's 'boyfriend', and Sam reacts normally, letting it fly over his head. When later in episode 17, Balth calls Cas "the angel in the dirty trench coat who's in love with you", Dean gets pissy. Just like later in 10x5. Touchy much? (13:48)

Balth admits he doesn't like Dean, and that "screwing him would delight me", but calls the one brother who threatened to crisp his wings, a "capable young man" (14:46). Jealous much? ICWAW we would read some sort of romantic rivalry between those two.

Episode 14:

This face... where have I seen this face before?

Oh yes, here

Dean looks at Lisa, the so called "love of his life", the same way he looks at Cas. Fuck my life

Episode 15:

"Cas" (Misha) starts stripping and Dean... stares... again (9:23)

"Well, Cas... now that you have your sword, try not to die by it." (39:53) Is it a saying? Or a reference to Dean being Michael's Sword? As in "He is gonna be the death of you"? And Balth looks at Cas THAT WAY?! (40:01) You can't tell me there was nothing between these two. Kill me now

Fucking stop being an old bitching married coupleTM already (40:25) you are hurting me

Episode 17:

Balth 'jokes' about Cas being in love with Dean (18:48) ICWAW we would read this as an ex being petty about the new love interest and teasing said love interest about it

Wow, jealous much, Dean? Again, ICWAW, this would totally be seen as jealousy for your crush's ex (27:30). And Dean, you're staring at Cas' lips again (27:37)

[Sam: "So, you killed 50,000 people for us?" Cas: *looks at Dean* "... No, I didn't... They were never born." (37:49) This is so stupid, but... sure, Cas... sure. That's what you ment.]

Cas makes a small speech about fighting for freedom, choosing your fate and all, while looking at Dean (38:55). OKAY SUBTEXT!!!

[As soon as Dean mentions boobs, Cas is gone (39:36) LOL]

Episode 19:

"It's not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude's busy. [...] Cas, get out of my ass!!!" "I was never in... your-" (4:28) and then they stare... Were you having unholy thoughts guys?

"Without your power you're basically just a baby in a trench coat" #MARRIED (10:38), "My friend is very sick." "I have a, uh... painful burning sensation." OH COME ON!!! (11:22)

"You know who whines? Babies. *pats Castiel*" (14:28) I'm sorry, pats him wHERE??!!

Dean saves Cas again (19:38)

The way Cas says "Dean, Dean!" (23:09)... I'm so fucking weak, and look at those EYES! (23:41) kill me now

"The kid... The little kid, he's one of them." "... Unbelievable." "Yeah, I know, Cas. You told me, all right?" (37:48) #MARRIED

Sam and Bobby immediately think Cas might be betraying them (39:31), while Dean won't even immagine the possibility. "This is Cas we're talking about!" (39:52)

Episode 20:

Even tho Dean can sense something is off with Cas, he won't bring himself to admit it. And the eye-car-sex. That. (4:44-4:53)

"You're distracted. [...] Is that all you're holding, huh? See... the stench of that Impala's all over your overcoat, angel." (6:20) this has such sexual undertones. ICWAW, it would be MENT as having sexual undertones. Also Crowley ships it

Dean protects Cas even tho clear evidence is there, and even feels bad about lying to him (12:06). And Cas feels oh so bad about Dean trying to be loyal to him, even when he was starting to suspect (13:18)

Dean still refuses to acknowledge the possibility of Cas' betrayal (19:56). His speech about Cas... I'm weak. "He broke ranks, gone to the mat, cut and bleeding for us, so many frigging times. This is Cas!" (20:10). ICWAW, this would be read as Dean having feelings for Cas, and as those feelings were getting in the way of his best judgment

Cas goes against the King of Hell to save the boys... but Dean first (21:48), and Dean defendes him against Bobby and Sam, apologizing for doubting about him. Cas hates having to break their trust

The look on Dean's face as he realizes Cas had been lying the whole time... BROKEN (23:35-23:49)

Cas doesn't want Dean to have to sacrifice more than he already had for him (25:19), and when Crowley shows up, Cas' first instinct is to look back at Dean protectively (25:30), and does that again before following Crowley (26:17)

Cas wants Dean to be happy, stay retired, even tho he was so longingly looking at him moments earlier (29:09)

"You gotta look at me, man. [...] Look me in the eye and tell me you're not working with Crowley." (32:38) the absolute desperation in both Dean and Cas, how HURT they look. THEIR EYES! Dean looks devastated

"I did it to protect you, I did it to protect all of you!" (33:09) one of the many "you, all of you" no-homo saves Cas pulls while talking to/about Dean

"I had no choice!" "No, you had a choice... You just made the wrong one." (34:21) how fucking hurt Dean looks. "Where were you when I needed to hear it?" THE EYES

"I was there... Where were you? *flashback to Cas looking back at Dean*" I'M DEAD

"It's not too late. Damn it, Cas. We can fix this!" "Run. You have to run, now. RUN!" (35:33) and they do, but Dean looks back at Cas, and the way they look at each other... STOP (35:47-35:52) ICWAW, this whole scene would seem like someone trying to save their loved one, and OH boy, that stare exchange would seem either a silent confession or a reminder of their feelings for the other

Cas visits Dean in the night, even tho they clearly don't trust him and don't want him there, and Dean leaves it be (38:06), and even apologizes for having to angel-proof the house against him

#MARRIED (38:28), "I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this because of you." (38:35) ICWAW... do I even need to point this out?

"Next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest thing I have to family..." the look on Cas' face as Dean says this (39:15) "... that you are like a brother to me." did Cas' eyes just get more glossy? Poor baby. Also, ICWAW, by the way they interact, this statement would feel wrong on so many levels

"You're just a man. I'm an angel." ... why does it feel like Cas is telling that to himself more than to Dean? (39:43) "I'm sorry, Dean." (39:55) Kill me

Cas questions his decisions, asks God for guidance, the moment he understood he hurt Dean. He doesn't want to hurt Dean, but will do what he has to do to if it means he will be safe

Episode 21:

[Not a destiel moment, but "fragile masculinity" much, Dean? (4:20) "I was too busy having sex with women." (why do you feel the need to specify 'women'?)]

This Dean-Balth bickering has such current-former love interest fight vibes (8:52). Come on, ICWAW, this would totally be the case

Here's another Cas/Lisa parallel: how Dean acts here, looking for Ben and Lisa (13:11), and how he acts in S8 while looking for Castiel ("WHERE'S THE ANGEL!?")

Cas saves Dean again (21:46). "I didn't ask for your help." "Well, regardless. You're welcome." #MARRIED

They are both on the verge of tears... "I thought you said that we were like family." (22:22) They hate this situation. They hate not being like always, close, friendly, family

"Dean... I do everything that you ask... I always come when you call. And I am your friend." (22:39) the way he says 'Dean' and how his voice trembles. Dean is basically almost crying now (23:45)

"Dean, I said I'm sorry and I ment it." "Thank you... I wish this changed anything..." "I know.. So do I." (37:45)

[Alright. I do believe Dean really grew to love Lisa during that year they spent together, but I don't buy the "I always loved you, ever since that one hook up on that one weekend we knew each other for" shit. Dean wanted to give a try to the whole 'apple pie life' he'd promised Sam, with a good woman he knew Dean had feelings for.

If he grew to love Lisa over a couple of years after 1 hook up, I'm sure he could do the same thing for Cas after over a decade (he for sure would have already If Cas Were A Woman)]

Episode 22:

["You've always got little old me." "Yes... I'll always have you." (30:26) These two... Come on, they HAD to be ex lovers!]

"We were family once. I'd have died for you. I almost did a few times (Cas did actually, twice). So if that means anything to you... Please... I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and now I've lost Sam... Don't make me lose you too." (39:55) ICWAW, this would be seen as a straight up CONFESSION

The hurtful look on Dean's face when Cas says "You're not my family, Dean.", and the terror when he thought for a second that Sam might have killed him (40:39)

["You will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord... or I shall destroy you." ... okay, Cas, honey, I get you are tired of waiting, but this is not the right way to get a confession out of Dean (41:20)]

[Season 7>>]

[virozero]

OC ask game: 🌳 🌸 🌷 :0

Name:  Nitrous D’vil

Nickname:  Nitro

Gender:  Masculine Agender

Pronouns: He/They

Race: Cyborg Oni

 Age: 30+

Orientation: Pansexual 

🌳 🌸 🌷 from this post

🌳 Compare your OC to themselves from 10 years ago.

👿 Edgy AI bastard with no concept of boundaries and no moral compass to Civilized bastard with complete understanding of boundaries but doesn’t care cause it’s “More fun to intermediate humans.” His moral compass is more like Jack sparrows then a normal one lmao.

🌳 How has their mental state changed since then, how have they aged and grown up?

👿He has diffidently matured more in the ways of learning Human manners. [Had a hard time learning how fragile humans where and not to go on murder sprees]

🌳 Would they say they’re in a better place than they were back then or do they need help?

👿 In a waaaay better place physically mentally and in life overall, very happy with his achievements.  He does needs help from time to time when he slips back into assault mode

🌳 What advice would they give their younger self?

👿 ”Shut the fuck up and listen, and watch. You might learn something and will almost always get the advantage.”

🌳 What advice would their younger self give to them now?

👿 “Loosen up, you old ass pile of wires. When did we stop having fun?”

🌸 What does your OC’s voice sound like?

👿 No canon voice yet, but a low smooth synthetic robotic voice that is almost always laced with venom or aggression. [Basically Revenant from APEX but a little less gravelly]

🌸 Their laugh?

👿 Hearty, metallic, loud, melodious 

🌸 Are they good at singing?

👿Yes but refuses to let anyone know. I like to head-canon this song to be his signing voice but a little lower [We can’t let them know we have passions! IT’S WEAKNESS]

🌸 Do they have an accent?

👿Not really an accent but less emotional reflections on their words when he talks it sounds odd and out of place. You get use to it.

🌷 In what ways would your OC alter their body if they could?

👿Well, his current form is a full-bodied alteration from a Huge war machine to a severely compact slightly smaller war machine and fashion.

🌷 How would they do it using mundane means (hair dye, surgery, make-up?)

👿Nitro absolutely loves spas days and doing anything with his synth hair. New Color? Fuck ya! New Style? Hell yes! The head of his finance department’s 5 year old daughter wants to braid it? He’s obligated to say yes and sit on the floor as she stands in a chair to practice her braiding as the meeting goes on.

🌷 What is their ideal look for themselves? 

👿This mostly, maybe with more gold in the future. But gold is soft and that makes weak spots so gotta find some suitable metal that can look like gold.

[sandershospitalau]

Familiar Faces

(Trigger Warnings- Remus, Deceit, Attempted suicide, gangs, mentions of death/kidnappings, flashbacks)

Archive Of Our Own

————————

“Don’t get me wrong, sir, I know I’m gonna need some help starting out,” Nurse Venzon stammered as they padded through the halls of Sanders Hospital beside Virgil. “I’m just surprised that the director of nursing decided to be the one to help me.”

“We need all the good nurses we can get,” Virgil huffed, shrugging. “Until we can get the politicians to cancel that stupid nursing education bill, good hires are gonna be rare. Sanders Hospital needs to make sure its new hires can actually do their jobs.”

“Oh,” Nurse Venzon said, pursing their lips and staring straight ahead. “Alrighty then.” The two nurses looked like pale, lanky, purple sticks as they walked down the halls.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Virgil sighed, a tiny smirk he was pretty sure counted as comforting twitching on the edge of his mouth. “Like you said, you’re just starting out. Someone’s gotta show you the ropes.”

“Right,” Nurse Venzon said, nodding. The pair of nurses hugged the wall as a bed whisked past them, surrounded by residents and attendings. Nurse Venzon’s saucer sized eyes followed the bed. Their head spun around trying to see the bed all the way down the hall. Virgil’s smirk grew. The untapped excitement of a nurse fresh out of nursing school was always a treat.

“So we’re almost to Ms. Sutherland’s room,” Virgil explained, glancing at the room number behind him. “As the newbie, you’ll be stuck with grunt work. That means lab results, samples, prostate examines- well, probably not the last one with Ms. Sutherland.” Nurse Venzon nodded along to everything Virgil said. “When the doctor’s in the room, they usually control the scene, but you’re the one who’ll be with her more. But you heard all this in your orientation, so I won’t get into more details.”

“Got it,” Nurse Venzon chirped, bouncing on their toes.

“So,” Virgil huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “Tell me about our patient.”

“But don’t you already know about her?” Nurse Venzon asked.

“I know her,” Virgil muttered. “I want to know if you do. Talk to me like you’re the expert on her and I’m the newbie.”

“Ok,” Nurse Venzon huffed, shaking out their hands. “Our patient is Natasha Sutherland, female, she/her, age fifty-two. She’s been seen at Sanders numerous times over the last few years for treatment involving her chronic back and neck pain. The pain is linked back to damage gained during her service in Iraq. A lot of her forms had St. Gemma’s insignia on them, so I believe she used to get treatment there until the VA stopped helping her. Lately the pain’s increased to a point where her usual home therapy isn’t working, so she’s opting for a surgical solution.”

“Good job,” Virgil said, pushing himself off the wall. “Let’s go meet her.” Virgil had to admit, as he padded down the hall with Nurse Venzon, a new case was as good of a break as he could get from the Nurse’s Rally. He’d been running all over the hospital, getting signatures from nurses to participate in the rally. Even though Roman was helping head up public announcement of the protest, Virgil had been interviewed enough times to last for the rest of his life. And then there were the semi-decent politicians emailing Virgil constantly about their support or ‘respectful disagreements’ with the upcoming march. Being a public figure was exhausting. How did Roman do it?

“Then how else do you suggest I relax?” a voice that sounded similar to General Leia Organa muttered through a half open door.

“Watch TV?” another voice suggested. “Maybe Grey’s Anatomy?”

“I’m in the hospital and you want to watch Grey’s Anatomy,” the first voice scoffed. “Of course.” Virgil tried not to roll his eyes when he realized that was Ms. Sutherland’s room. He knocked on the door and pulled it open completely.

“Ms. Sutherland?” he called into the room. Ms. Sutherland’s room was one of the smaller ones in Sanders, but it was big enough for her bed, the two nurses, and the chair beside the bed where her guest sat. Ms. Sutherland had close cut, traditionally masculine, sandy hair mixed with spots of gray. Her muscled arms rested on her lap. Her face had enough sharp features to cut paper, with vibrant cheekbones, a sharp tipped nose, and small lips. If Virgil was asked to pick out who he thought was a soldier out of a crowd, he would pick this woman. The person in the chair beside her looked to be a few years older, with more gray in his long brown hair. His hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. It touched the collar of his dark blue sweater and made him look like a sailor. He had the same sharp nose as Ms. Sutherland, but with softer cheeks and a pair of circular glasses dangled precariously on the edge of his nose.

“Just call me Natasha,” Ms. Sutherland huffed, waving a hand dismissively. “There’s too many Ms. Sutherland’s in my family as it is.”

“Whatever you prefer,” Virgil sighed. “My name’s Nurse Lawson, and this is Nurse Venzon. You’ll be seeing a lot of us during your stay here.” Nurse Venzon waved to Natasha.

“Nurse Lawson,” the man in the chair mumbled. He glanced up at Virgil. His eyes scanned the nurse up and down. A smile formed on his lips.

“Uh…” Virgil said. “Yep. That’s my name.”

“Hank, the little games you play with people aren’t helpful now,” Natasha sighed. The man, Hank, pushed the chair back and stood up.

“Now isn’t life strange,” Hank chuckled. “You dyed your hair since we met. I’m guessing you don’t recognize me?”

“Uh, no, sorry,” Virgil said, shaking his head. Hank chuckled, picking at the sleeves of his sweater.

“Would this jog your memory?” he asked. His bulky fingers slipped his left sleeve up, wrist out to the nurses. Long pink scars trailed up his wrists. Some were poorly healed, picked and scabbed into permanent markings, while the longest of the bunch were fainter, the mark of a doctor’s help. “The doctors at St. Gemma’s did a good job.” The memories clicked into Virgil’s head in an instant.

————————

(Years prior...)

Virgil Lawson would never understand how anyone in their right mind could have hired Remus for their maintenance staff. The man could easily have been Oscar the Grouch's long lost brother. Who escaped from prison. And then burned down Sesame Street. With every day, Virgil became more and more certain that the big brass of St. Gemma's were utter idiots.

"I mean, isn't that sort of blood more sanitary than other blood?" Remus asked. He leaned against his janitor's cart as he walked alongside Virgil. His mop dragged behind him, leaving a long wet trail on the tiled floor. "Vampires should use that blood! It's perfect for the lesbian vampires, isn't it?"

"Ok, you need to stop," Virgil grunted. Remus simply laughed and stroked his greasy mustache. Virgil kept his hands in the pockets of his black scrubs. Why the scrubs for the psychiatric nurses were black, Virgil would never understand. It made him seem less like a helpful hand and more of a grim servant of death. Not that he didn't like black, it was easily one of his favorite colors, but who's heard of black scrubs? Even Remus had a better color scheme with his dark green janitor's jumpsuit and the blue flowery logo of St. Gemma's stitched onto the chest.

"I don't see why I should stop!" Remus snorted. "You're the one who brought up vampires! I'm just suggesting places to get blood!"

"I'm not using actual blood for my vampire costume," Virgil huffed. "Do you realize how unsanitary that would be?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Remus laughed. Virgil groaned softly. He'd walked into that one, yet again.

"Unless you want Nurse Patty to throw down on you, I suggest you head off," Virgil sighed, stopping beside the third-floor elevators. "I'm heading to the psychiatry department."

"What fun awaits you there?" Remus chirped. He stuffed his mop into the bucket of murky water attached to his cart.

"Jumper watch," Virgil muttered as the elevator beeped and the doors slid open. Virgil padded to the corner of the large elevator. Remus boarded alongside him.

"Oof," Remus groaned. He leaned both elbows against the rails lining the elevator. "Details?" Virgil's guts hurt as he gave into Remus's demands. This was the most fragile moment of someone's life, and he was sharing it like it was no big deal. But what could he do? Remus was unstoppable when he wanted something. It was better to give him what he wanted. It would save Virgil a world of trouble.

"Overdose," Virgil mumbled. "Plus wrist damage. His sister found him. He's physically stable, but not emotionally."

"So you're his babysitter for the night!" Remus chuckled. "Fun times all around! You might be able to catch a few ZZZs while you're there. Your eyes are particularly dark and stormy tonight." Remus leaned over and booped Virgil's nose.

"Yeah, you try explaining to three different families that their loved one's treatment isn't working," Virgil snapped, rubbing his nose. The elevator beeped, and the doors opened up. "Now go. Not to say seeing you get chewed out by Patty wouldn't make my day, but I'm too tired to deal with that crap. Go clean the pediatric waiting room, there's always some kid vomiting in there." Virgil shoved past Remus and left the elevator.

"Whatever you say, oh dear Anxiety!" Remus chirped. He gave Virgil a melodramatic bow as the elevator slid shut.

"Don't-" Virgil snapped, but the elevator was already closed. "Don't call me that." Virgil shivered as cold air brushed past him. He rubbed his pale arms, wishing he'd grabbed his hoodie before coming up. He stalked away from the elevators and into the guts of the St. Gemma's psych department.

Most of the psych department was devoted to therapy and medication. Offices dotted the off-tan walls between informational and inspirational posters. Each office was the shiny face of the emotional dumpster fires that lurked in the long-term patient rooms beyond. Most of the offices were dark now- after all, who would schedule a session for the middle of the night? Virgil continued on, blocking out the muffled shouting that he drew closer and closer towards.

A single window looked into each of the tan rooms. In this department, patients often lacked privacy privileges. Virgil kept his gaze forward as he repeated the room's number in his head. He tried not to flinch when he heard a muffled scream bounce through the walls and when his fellow psych nurses scurried past him. He was used to the panicked screams of patients with brain damage and deep, difficult mental illness. Why should he be as jumpy as a visitor? His shoulders tightened, and he continued on.

His patient's room was towards the end of the department, near the hallway window that led to the fire escape. Naturally, bars covered the window. Virgil tried to drop his shoulders and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a familiar voice inside said. Virgil gritted his teeth, frowning, and entered. Harsh yellow lights flickered around the room. Like most of the rooms in the psychiatry department, the tan walls and white tiled floors were mostly barren. There was a TV that stood higher than any person of normal height could reach, with a matted recliner in the corner. A small stand sat beside the bed pressed against the wall. Virgil's patient, Hank Dragon (Virgil thought they were pulling his leg when he read the name), laid in the white bed, IVs trailing to his arms. His hair was a sweaty brown mess streaked with gray that reached the base of his neck. His small eyes were focused on Virgil. Had he already come down off the high caused by his medication? Was he staring off into space where Virgil conveniently stood? When Virgil moved to the side of the room, Hank's eyes followed him. Alright, he was definitely looking at him. He was also glancing at the doctor who stood by his bedside.

The doctor's black hair was smoothed back against his head with hair gel. A few dots of black paint sprinkled his doctor's coat. A perfectly straight black bowtie sat under his neck against his yellow polo. Blue rubber gloves stretched over his thin, still hands (at least he wasn't wearing those dishwasher gloves of his or, God forbid, the bowler hat). Then again, perhaps the bowtie was meant to distract patients from the wrinkled, scarred skin trailing down the left side of the doctor's face. It snuck under his collar and snaked around his face, claiming his ear and turning strains of his black hair brown. A brown eye and a golden eye scanned the numbers appearing on Hank's main monitor.

"What's up, doc," Virgil scoffed, leaning against the door with crossed arms. Dr. D looked up.

"Ah, Nurse Lawson," Dr. D sighed. "You're here."

"I'm sorry, was I not wanted at this exact moment?" Virgil laughed, grinning.

"Mr. Dragon, this is Nurse Lawson," Dr. D explained. "He'll be keeping you company, now that he's finally decided to grace us with his presence." Dr. D padded around the bed and towards Virgil. Hank's eyes followed him across the room. Virgil kept his fists from clenching as the doctor approached. "I trust you've been filled in on Mr. Dragon's medical details."

"I wouldn't be doing my job if I wasn't," Virgil huffed.

"Regardless, if you need any refreshers, you've got his board," Dr. D sighed. The board he was referring to was on the wall to Virgil's left. It was a rectangular whiteboard with various columns of information. Patient name, medication schedules, admittance, and other info. Stuck in the corner of the board were the words 'Watch- Virgil Lawson', scribbled under the medication schedule. "Goodnight, Mr. Dragon. Virgil." Virgil scooted away as Dr. D opened the door. His coat flapped behind him as the door clicked closed.

“Hank Dragon,” Virgil gasped softly as Hank slipped his sleeve back over his scars.

“What are you doing, Hank?” Natasha huffed.

“Tasha, you’ve got a great nurse taking care of you,” Hank laughed. He strolled over to Virgil and slapped his shoulder. “I can’t believe it! Virgil Lawson, treating a Sutherland kid once again!”

“Oh, are you siblings?” Nurse Venzon piped in, their wide eyes bouncing between Hank and Virgil.

“My older brother changed his last name shortly after he moved away from home,” Natasha explained. “I would like some clarification, Hank. When did Nurse Lawson treat you?”

“Well, Natasha,” Virgil said, picking at the inside of his scrub pockets. “The night after your brother’s… his, uh-”

“Hank and I don’t mince words,” Natasha sighed. “You can say attempted suicide. Words only have power when you give them that power.”

“Well, when he went to St. Gemma’s, I was assigned to his case,” Virgil explained.

“Lawson here helped my feet find solid ground!” Hank laughed, shaking Virgil’s shoulder. “Spent the whole night in my room chatting with me.”

“I see,” Natasha said, eyebrows raised. “Your help was greatly appreciated, Nurse Lawson.”

“Sorry, Tasha, I can’t get over this,” Hank chuckled, shaking his head. “We need to catch up! You know, see how our lives have gone since then!”

“I’m sort of working right now,” Virgil said, pointing at Natasha.

“Right, right,” Hank laughed, letting go of Virgil. “You got a lunch break or something? We could have lunch, my treat! You like ramen?”

“How do you think I survived nursing school?” Virgil scoffed.

“I know this ramen place, it’s not that far from the hospital,” Hank said. “We can eat there! What do you say?”

“How about we check on your sister first?” Virgil said, pointing towards Natasha. “Nurse Venzon?”

“So Natasha,” Nurse Venzon chirped, squeezing past the two men, finally given a chance to do something. “Let’s get your information updated.” Nurse Venzon’s words left Virgil’s conscious train of thought as Hank settled back into his seat. He hadn’t thought of Hank Dragon in a long time. That offer of ramen sounded a bit too good to resist.

————————

"Someone needs to teach that man some bed-side manners," Hank muttered as Dr. D closed the door to his room. His half-focused eyes trailed onto Virgil, following his every move.

"That’s just how he is," Virgil huffed. He trudged across the room and sat on the arm of the matted recliner. Hank let out a soft bark of laughter.

"The man needs to find another job, then," he muttered.

“Do you want to find something on TV or keep insulting Dr. D?” Virgil grumbled, cocking his head towards the TV.

“Dr. D,” Hank mumbled, shaking his head. “Dr. D. Doesn’t he have a name?”

“Of course he has a name,” Virgil snapped.

“Then what is it?” Hank asked. Virgil grabbed the TV remote sitting on the nightstand and flicked on the TV. America’s Funniest Home Videos popped onto the screen without sound. “Turn it off. I wanna sleep.” Hank closed his eyes and rested his head so he faced away from Virgil.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Virgil huffed, stalking around the bed. He crouched to Hank’s level and shook his shoulder. “You still have a cocktail of drugs you need to work out of your system. No sleeping for you.”

“I woke up at four this morning,” Hank sighed, turning his head to the TV. “Can’t I take a five minute nap?”

“You could try,” Virgil scoffed. He settled back on the arm of the couch. “But then I’d have to break out the airhorn.”

“There are other patients on this floor,” Hank scoffed. “You won’t wake them up.” Dang it. Even with half-focused eyes, Hank saw right through Virgil. The nurse let his mind wander as the TV played clips of crying toddlers and old ladies slipping on front porches. He’d had his fair share of sleepless nights, but being stuck in this room watching Hank would be a bit more difficult. Perhaps Virgil could ask one of the nurses to bring him some coffee. If the other nurses didn’t fear him, maybe. Remus would probably bring him coffee. On the other hand, Remus in a room with a suicidal person was a recipe for disaster.

“Are there photos?” Hank asked, not looking at Virgil.

“Considering I’m not a mind reader, you’ll have to be more specific,” Virgil huffed.

“They take photos during surgery, don’t they?” Hank asked. “For records, or something? Can I see the photos from my surgery? I’d check the results myself, but…” Hank lifted his right arm barely an inch off the bed before it fell back down. Thick bandages wrapped around his wrist.

“That’s not happening,” Virgil grunted.

“Alright,” Hank sighed. Virgil bit his tongue as questions hopped around his head. Hank didn’t need any stupid questions. All he needed from Virgil was a watching eye to keep him safe.

“I do have another request though,” Hank said.

“If it’s something that involves me leaving the room, no,” Virgil muttered.

“The new episode of Grey’s Anatomy is on tonight,” Hank said. “I thought I wasn’t going to see another one. Considering I’m still kicking, might as well watch it.”

“Now that’s something I can do,” Virgil said. He flicked through the TV channels, news stations and cartoons and ads flashing by. He settled on ABC, which was in the middle of a Grey’s Anatomy trailer. Half an hour later, the show’s theme played through the room. In a few ways, this was a good improvement to Hank’s condition. He was looking forward to something, even though it was something so small. Like Virgil always reminded himself, tough love worked. Even if it hurt.

“No way,” Remy gasped, pulling off his sunglasses for dramatic effect. “No. Way. In. Hell.”

“It’s a small world, I guess,” Virgil sighed, leaning against the counter of Remy’s little cafe. Remy’s brown satchel sat bundled on the counter beside the cash register just behind a glass tip jar. His little coffee shop name tag clung to his white shirt and a dark stain clung to his jeans (the mishaps of coffee).

“You’re drowning me with tea,” Remy chirped, an almost wicked smile spreading across his face. “So he’s here now? Not at St. Gemma’s?”

“His sister’s here,” Virgil explained. He drummed his fingers against the counter top. “He’s here to keep her company.”

“And you didn’t recognize the sister’s name when you got assigned to her or whatever?” Remy asked.

“It’s not like we exchanged contact information back then,” Virgil huffed. “Besides, his last name is Dragon, and hers is Sutherland.”

“Dragon,” a voice at the back of the little cafe scoffed. “That sounds like the name of a basement dweller with a D&D addiction.” The other person working with Remy turned around with a cup of fresh coffee in his hands. He too had an obsession with wearing sunglasses indoors, those his were circular and more like tiny mirrors attached to his face. He wore black leggings and an all-black long-sleeved shirt. A black yarn shawl wrapped around his neck, strings climbing over his shoulders.

“That’s quite the criticism coming from a dude we only know as ‘The Critic’,” Virgil scoffed, putting air quotes around the name.

“Dr. Sanders knows my name,” The Critic chuckled, grabbing a sharpie and scribbling a name onto the coffee cup.

“Yeah, cause he’s our boss,” Virgil huffed. “You can’t exactly get hired without a name. You’re the director of food services, why are you even here?”

“Exactly, Francis,” The Critic said. He strolled beyond the counter and towards the sea of seats filled with cafe customers.

“That’s not my-” Virgil snapped, but the Critic was already gone. “What does that mean? Remy, what does that even mean?”

“Whatever,” Remy chuckled. “Your order’s almost ready. You’ve got a lunch date to get to.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Virgil groaned, elbows on the counter, head in his hands. “This is weird enough as is. I mean, this isn’t what being a nurse is like. Most of the time, you take care of a patient and you never see them again. Now I’m supposed to go get ramen with this guy?”

“You agreed to it,” Remy scoffed.

“I agreed to it,” Virgil groaned. Remy slid a cup across the counter.

“Just relax,” Remy sighed. “If he’s a weirdo, you can pull out that kung-fu of yours and deal with him. Take a break, and enjoy the free food.” Virgil took the cup and handed over a few bills. He dropped $5 in the tip jar and stalked towards the exit.

Maybe Remy was right. Virgil had been working through lunch the past few days on the rally. Maybe this would be good for him. It was just lunch. Lunch with a stranger. Virgil should have grabbed his hoodie- things were always better with a bit of his mom’s flannel at his side.

————————

“You haven’t asked yet,” Hank said halfway through the new episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

“Asked what?” Virgil asked, glancing at the man.

“All day, people have been asking me the same question,” Hank grumbled. “‘Why’d you do it, Hank? Why’d you try to throw your life away?’” Hank gently waved his unbandaged arm in the air. “You haven’t asked me yet. Waiting for the right words to say?”

“I haven’t met many people who self harm or try to commit suicide that want people to pry into their darkest moments,” Virgil scoffed. “My job is to make sure you don’t try it again. It’s not to figure out why you did it.”

“Eh,” Hank chuckled. “That’s fair.”

“My only question is why you want to watch a medical drama when you’re literally in a hospital,” Virgil muttered, waving a hand at the TV. Hank laughed again, the same sort of soft, short bark he did before.

“You do have a sense of humor, don’t you, Nurse Lawson?” Hank chuckled. “Tasha would have said the same thing.”

“Who’s that?” Virgil asked, sliding into the body of the comforter.

“Tasha’s my little sister,” Hank explained, a tiny smile emerging. “She’s a lieutenant, fighting back ISIS and such over in the Middle East. Well, not right now. She’s finished a tour of service, came home last week.” The barely living smile slipped away. “Memory’s a little foggy. Pretty sure she found me. I think I forgot she was home again.”

“There’s always a catch in plans,” Virgil muttered. “Guess you should, you know, never try it again.”

“Heh,” Hank sighed. “You’re probably right.” The empty space in the room filled with the soft tunes of whatever indie song was playing over the surgery on TV. “I don’t think I help Tasha’s army credentials a lot.”

“That’s not how the army works,” Virgil huffed, totally unsure of his statement. “They don’t care about someone’s sibling.”

“Even if that sibling is a criminal?” Hank scoffed. Virgil’s entire body tensed. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t murder. I ran with some gangs in my past. Some time in jail sorted me out. Can you turn off the TV?”

“What, no more Grey’s Anatomy?” Virgil asked, restoring his false air of confidence.

“No one knows the full story,” Hank muttered. “Not even Tasha. She doesn't know everything I did. I just want someone to know. I'm sick of keeping everything in. It's made me sick. ” That was all Virgil needed. He flicked the TV off and hopped off the recliner. He rolled his shoulders, even though that didn’t help his terrible posture.

“Alright then,” Virgil huffed. “Spill it.”

“You want all the details?” Hank asked. “They aren’t all pretty.”

“I want the full story,” Virgil growled, glaring down at Hank. He’d do whatever Hank needed to recover. After all, he wasn’t the only person in the world burdened by all the hidden details of a life story. Virgil was in the same boat. Even if Virgil had no one to confess to, he would give Hank someone.

Virgil pushed open the door to the ramen shop. The wall beside the door was a large mural of a cartoon alligator slurping on a bowl of ramen. The words ‘Gator Noodles’ stretched over the alligator’s face. The theme song of an anime Virgil couldn’t remember played over the speakers. Servers stalked around the square pale wood tables with trays of deep bowls filled with soy sauce soaked ramen. Rich afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows facing the street. Pastel colors covered the restaurant, like Virgil was stepping into a children’s anime. Virgil’s mouth watered as soon as the bell on the door chimed and the smell of soy sauce hit his nose.

Hank sat at a booth against the wall, closest to the bathrooms. He flipped through the pages of a gray paperback book. His fingers tapped against the table to the rhythm of the song overhead. With the basics of kung-fu going through his head, Virgil approached Hank’s table. The former patient noticed Virgil before he got there.

“You came!” Hank laughed, his voice still retaining the barky laughter from that night in St. Gemma’s. Hank slid a menu into his book and stood up.

“You invited me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling very out of place in his scrubs. He really, really should have changed.

“Tasha was certain you wouldn’t show up,” Hank chuckled. “Sit down, sit down.” Hank slid back into the booth. Virgil shoved himself into the other seat and quickly grabbed a menu pressed under a metal stand of sauces.

“I didn’t recognize you when I saw you again,” Hank admitted. “The purple hair threw me off.”

“Yeah, uh, I started dying it a while back,” Virgil said, self-consciously pulling at a few strains of his hair.

“Check this out,” Hank said. He pushed his book across the table. It was a gray cover with prison walls near the bottom that read ‘Locked In.’ “You’d be surprised how many criminals have written books. This is only one of the books I picked up after we met. Never was much of a book guy, but it gave me something to do.”

“Good for you,” Virgil said, nodding. He glanced around the restaurant, hoping someone would come by and take his order.

“You seem happier,” Hank remarked. He slipped his book into his lap. “Less… I dunno, dark?”

“How much do you even remember about me?” Virgil asked, squinting.

“I’ll be honest, there are parts of that night that are totally lost,” Hank chuckled. He rested one elbow on the table and waved his hand around like a joystick. “But you? You are preserved in perfect detail. I mean, you’re the first person I ever really talked to about my issues.”

“I’m someone people can vent to,” Virgil sighed, shrugging.

“I know that now, but here’s the thing,” Hank huffed, pointing at Virgil. “You did not look all that welcoming. The black scrubs you nurses wore made you look more like angels of death.”

“St. Gemma’s is idiotic like that,” Virgil sighed.

“Sanders seems to be a good fit for you,” Hank sighed. “St. Gemma’s was fine and all, had some great care and fancy techniques, but you feel more human at Sanders, you know?”

“I know,” Virgil sighed, smiling.

“There was something off about half the folks there,” Hank chuckled. “Like that doctor who did my surgery, the one with the scars on his face.”

“Dr. D,” Virgil muttered.

“Right!” Hank barked. His hands soared around him in giant windmill patterns. “It’s still a weird name, even after all these years.”

“Are you ready to order now?” a server popped out of nowhere beside the booth, notepad in hand. Finally. Virgil pointed to the miso ramen dish on the menu, while Hank ordered the shoyu ramen. The server disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

“Alright,” Virgil sighed. “The question’s been on my mind all day, and I’m pretty sure you’ve answered it by now, but- how are you doing?”

“Well, it’s been an uphill battle,” Hank admitted, resting his wild hands. “I fiddled around with medication to help me until I decided to drop it all together and try something else. I’ve been seeing a therapist once a week, probably spent enough on therapy to cover those med school bills I hear so much about. Tasha’s been a big help too.” Virgil nodded softly. His insides churned. Even talking to him as a patient was easier than this. How was he expected to respond? Virgil just tried to settle his insides and make the ramen cook faster.

————————

“I’ll be fair, I’m not a storyteller,” Hank sighed, staring at the ceiling. “Most of this probably won’t make sense. Should I start at the beginning?”

“It’s your story,” Virgil muttered. Hank closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. For a moment, thoughts of Hank falling asleep and not waking up flooded Virgil’s head. But Hank opened his eyes again and started telling the story.

“I wasn’t a poor kid growing up,” Hank explained. “My family had cash, enough to live in one of the nicer parts in this city. Tasha was born a year after me, so we basically grew up together. I think my parents had the idea that I’d join the military out of college, maybe be a Navy guy like my dad. Tasha was always more like him, though. I took after Mom. More domestic, kinda, since I liked cleaning and cooking and whatnot. God, I loved cooking. Loved running around the kitchen. Didn’t make me a popular kid, though. Tasha and I really just had each other in school. She was the one who stood up to people for me.” Virgil couldn’t hide a little grin. After all, he’d been like that too- knitting and stitching and playing with whatever scraps of cloth he could find in his free time. But when was the last time he knitted something?

“When I started high school, Tasha was only in the eighth grade,” Hank continued.

“So you didn’t have any friends?” Virgil finished the thought.

“Right on the nose,” Hank sighed. “For the first part of the year, at least. Without Tasha, I didn’t know what to do with myself. No one talked to me after the first day. Eventually I made a friend, a guy I thought was a loner like me. Other guys like us migrated towards him. If you were a weirdo that everyone ignored, you had a place in our little group. You lost your mom and you’re angry at everyone around you? Come join us, we’re gonna drink on the beach. Everyone insult you for bad grades? Grades don’t matter when you’re skateboarding down the street. That’s right, I was a skater boy.” A dull ache swirled through Virgil. The ache had been with him since he graduated nursing school and got his job at St. Gemma’s. It was that ache that discovered St. Gemma’s, in a convoluted way. “I was an absolute idiot in high school.”

“Most people are,” Virgil muttered.

“That’s fair,” Hank admitted. “I think I took the cake, though. Most high school idiots stayed out past curfew or went to a few crazy parties. Meanwhile, my friends and I decided to get initiated into a gang of heartless little- like i said, stupid.”

“These guys were the only friends you had, right?” Virgil asked. “I can see anyone getting themselves into that situation. Doesn’t make you stupid.” Something clawed at Virgil’s chest. He ignored it for the moment.

“I was ruining my life and I didn’t even know it,” Hank scoffed. “Even after Tasha got to high school, I was long gone. I was out all night doing drug deals and pushing people around and playing with stolen guns. I stopped getting bullied. I thought I found people who cared about me. I got pretty good at running from the cops. I was having fun.” Hank’s good hand moved towards his bandage. Virgil grabbed his wrist and set Hank’s arm back to his side, gripping his wrist just a bit too tight. The arm was limp in Virgil’s grip.

“Don’t mess with your bandages, ok?” Virgil sighed. “We need to let them heal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank huffed, squeezing his eyes shut. “It took me till after high school, when Tasha was just getting ready to graduate from West Point, to snap out of it. Ya see, that friend of mine dragged me into a kidnapping. It was some kid, not that much younger than I was when I joined. He said the kid was just collateral, some junkie owed us cash or whatever. He had nothing to do with anything, he didn’t deserve to get hurt. I got out of there as soon as I could, and I dialled 911. Heh, imagine what that operator was thinking. ‘Yes, hi, I would like to report a kidnapping. I just kidnapped a child and would like to return him please.’” Hank let out a bark of laughter. “I don’t think I said that exactly, but something like that.”

“Geesh,” Virgil groaned.

“I sat out there, waiting for the cops to show, and when they did, I brought them in,” Hank explained. “The guy I spent all of high school with, thought he was my best friend, he pulled a gun on me. Got shot in the shoulder for his troubles. Since I helped find the kid, I got some deals, so I got sent to a different prison than my friend and a shorter sentence. My parents stopped talking to me after that, which I honestly deserved. Tasha was the only one who stuck around. She’s too good for me.” Scenarios danced through Virgil’s head. Hank sitting in jail, Hank getting a gun pointed at him, Hank’s fear at his friend, Virgil’s fear at his friend- no, what was he doing? He was making things about himself. That wasn’t right!

“When I got out of jail, Tasha helped me rebuild my life,” Hank sighed. “She let me stay at her house, paid me to take care of the place when she was deployed. Since I had a gang out for my blood, I didn’t leave the house much. It was me and my thoughts all the time.”

“A horrible idea, really,” Virgil muttered.

“You said it,” Hank chuckled. “I didn’t have a schedule to follow anymore, so I just slunk around. I was a burden to Tasha. I’d ruined my life, and I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t get a job, couldn’t get a place of my own. I’ve done a lot of bad things, but I couldn’t do anything about it. The only option for me was to remind myself of how badly I’d screwed up and how horrible I was.”

“You feeling regret is a good thing,” Virgil huffed. “It means you know you made mistakes. It means you aren’t that horrible.”

“Not sure how true that is,” Hank muttered.

“I’m serious,” Virgil grunted, crossing his arms. “How many people would have the courage to call the cops on themselves?” Hank’s gaze trailed between his hands, opening and closing his fists.

“Maybe,” Hank sighed. “I still took my sister’s cash. I wasted away in her house, ordering fast food and binge-watching TV all day. The few times I left were for groceries or with Tasha. She wouldn’t give up on me. So I gave up on myself.” Silent words of understanding and empathy entered Virgil’s head. Memories of mirrored emotions fluttered past. They both sat in the dim hospital room, each thinking different, but depressingly similar thoughts.

“I don’t think there’s much I can do to help,” Virgil admitted. “That’s a lot to unpack.”

“You let me tell my story,” Hank sighed.

“I’m also staying with you,” Virgil declared. “You’ve got two people who aren’t willing to give up on you now. Your sister, and me.”

“A horrible idea, really,” Hank chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well,” Virgil huffed, throwing his hands in the air. “It sucks to suck, I guess.” Hank’s mouth twitched. Virgil’s shoulders flew to his ears as Hank let out a loud bark of laughter. His chest heaved, his laughter making him bounce on the bed. For the first time in a while, Virgil showed a genuine smile. It was tiny and barely visible, but it was there, without sarcasm or anger or fear.

“After all that, he still sang Happy Birthday?” Hank laughed, stirring his ramen with a chopstick.

“They jacked up his painkillers,” Virgil scoffed. “He was out of it. Logan never sings, ever.” Virgil took a bite of his ramen. He really hoped he was eating normally.

“These friends of yours sound great!” Hank declared, taking a large bite out of his ramen. Noodles clung to his chin, but he wiped them away and let them plop onto the table.

“They’re tolerable,” Virgil said, smirking.

“They’re loyal, from the way you talk about them,” Hank said through a mouthful of noodles. He swallowed, then said “If I had found friends like that as a kid, I probably would have turned out better.”

“Alright, they’re great,” Virgil admitted, shaking his head. “If Roman heard me say that, his ego would grow ten sizes too big.” Virgil stabbed at his ramen. Thoughts danced on the tiny ripples in the soy sauce. He might as well tell Hank. He kept gushing about Virgil changing his life, so he probably wouldn’t get laughed at. “You keep saying I changed your life, but I’m thinking you changed mine too.”

“How?” Hank asked, glancing between Virgil and his ramen.

“The people I was with were toxic,” Virgil explained. “I wasn’t in a good place. I was trapped at St. Gemma’s in the same way you were trapped with that old friend of yours, and your sister’s house.”

“The house is less of a trap now,” Hank chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I still live there, but it’s a lot happier.”

“I thought the others were my friends, but…” Virgil sighed. “As you were talking, I realized they weren’t good for me. I was dying. It’s what drove me to join Sanders, in the end.” Hank’s bark of laughter ripped through Virgil’s ears.

“Nice to know we both made a difference,” Hank chuckled.

“I need to head back,” Virgil sighed, slipping out of the booth. “Thanks for the ramen.”

“Thanks for talking to me!” Hank laughed, scrambling out of the booth. He held his hand out to Virgil. “It really was great to see you.”

“I’ll probably see you again, considering I’m on your sister’s case,” Virgil said. He gritted his teeth and shook Hank’s hand. Awkward awkward awkward! Why was his hand all loose and weird?

“Yeah,” Hank said, nodding. Virgil shot Hank a two-fingered salute and, checking his pocket for his phone, strolled towards the exit of Gator Noodles. The anime music ringing through his head finally stopped. Virgil tugged at the collar of his scrubs and sighed. It really wasn’t the worst lunch ever. It was rather nice, if Virgil was being honest. But what it really was was a reminder- a reminder of what Virgil had escaped. He let out a long, deep breath. He stuck his hands into his pockets and started on his walk back to Sanders Hospital.

————————

(Years prior to Hank Dragon and Virgil Lawson’s first meeting…)

Virgil’s fellow nursing graduates screamed around him as their hats flew into the air. Virgil only tossed his a little bit above him- he didn’t want to lose the memento of all his hard work. The end of nursing school. The day had finally arrived. His graduating class hugged the people around them, sharing high fives and cheers. Virgil was perfectly happy to stand there, not touching anyone, and fix the hat back on his head.

His classmates swarmed towards the stands where their families waited, cheering for their kids and siblings, sharing the accomplishment. Virgil padded the opposite direction, towards his now former university. He had no one in the stands for him. His family was back in Atlanta, waiting for him to drive home. It wasn’t like Virgil wasn’t a bit annoyed his mom couldn’t come to his graduation. She’d been there for all his other major events. Still, it couldn’t be helped. His mom had so many backed-up sessions at the tattoo shop, she couldn’t drive down to Florida now. That was honestly preferable. Now that he was done with school, he could finally go home. He could find a job in Atlanta (after all, he’d gotten nursing licenses for both Georgia and Florida, just in case), stay with his mom until he found the right apartment, and start his life. And that was, quite frankly, terrifying.

Virgil paused underneath a tree thick with large, green leaves. He shuffled under his robes and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his dress pants. Sure he wasn’t supposed to have the phone during graduation, but what if someone called needing something? He leaned against the tree and dialed his mom’s number. He looked into the leaves above as the phone rang and, for a few moments, his anxiety was lifted.

“Hello?” someone asked on the other end of the call.

“Hey Mom,” Virgil said. “I didn’t fail nursing school, it seems. I’m not sticking around for all the kissing and crying and whatever. Once I get some stuff from my apartment, I’ll start heading home.”

“Who is this?” the voice asked.

“Uh…” Virgil stammered. “Virgil? Your son?”

“You’re her son?” the voice gasped. “She had a son?”

“Wait, you aren’t Mom,” Virgil huffed. Something churned in his stomach. “Who is this?”

…

no.

…

No.

…

No no no no NO NO NO NO NO NO-

He was burning underneath those itchy, itchy robes. Everything hurt, everything was too much, the world was too much. The grass stabbed his feet, the tree ran daggers down his stiff, burning shoulders. He wasn’t sure when he sat down. His hat fell off. His tears hadn’t come yet- even in his worst moments, the tears were always the last thing to show up- but the stabbing, choking sound coming out of his throat was enough for now.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when he wasn’t there, oh God he wasn’t there, how could he not have been there, he should have been there!

“This graduation had become much more interesting,” someone muttered. “It seems the joy of the moment has become too much for you.” Virgil didn’t bother opening his eyes. He stayed curled into himself, trying not to suffocate. “In case you’re too panicked to fully process that, that statement was sarcastic. Let’s try to breath, shall we? Maybe then I can understand if what you need is a few tissues or an ambulance.” Virgil’s hand flew out, dismissing whoever stood beside him. He didn’t need someone poking their nose into this. He couldn’t even say what it was. Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

“It may not be clear to you,” the stranger huffed. “But I am trying to help you. If you can’t talk, then I’ll figure things out the best I can. We’ve got a phone here-”

“Don’t touch that!” Virgil roared, eyes flying open. A black gloved hand was reaching for the phone at Virgil’s side. Virgil grabbed the phone and held it to his chest. He finally looked up at the stranger trying to help him. Scars ran down run side of his face, illuminated by the sun poking between the leaves. It looked like someone had taken a torch to half this person’s body.

“So you can speak,” the stranger sighed. They crouched to Virgil’s level. Their heterochromatic eyes tried to stay level with Virgil’s. “I am sorry to have upset you further. Perhaps I could have a name?” Virgil’s fists rested against his forehead, pressing into his skull as the tears, the late-comers they were- finally decided to show up.

“Virgil,” Virgil choked out, still sobbing.

“Virgil,” the stranger said. Virgil’s name rolled off his tongue. “Like Dante’s guide through the inferno. Poetic. You were the only one to go this way when the caps flew. I can only assume that whatever happened, it’s a new development. Since no one else seems to have noticed your distress, I suppose you’ll need my help.”

“You can’t help,” Virgil snapped. “I don’t even know you.”

“Then let’s change that,” the stranger sighed. He put his hand to his chest. “You may call me Dr. D, or simply D for now.”

“What-” Virgil stammered through his sobs. “That’s not a name.”

“I don’t entrust my name to many, so that is what I go by,” Dr. D huffed. He settled onto the grass in front of Virgil. “Now then, Virgil. Would you like someone to talk to?”

————————

Taglist-

@watchoutforthefanfics @moonlight22oa @purelyreblogstsedition

[brokenforecast]

The Emperor

The Emperor: a muggle guide to tarot 

It has been more than a year since I wrote on this blog but better late than never. I should have plenty of time from now on, because that is the reason for all this silence: lack of free time. But I handled that like a boss. let’s get on with it. We have finally arrived at an unapologetic male character in the tarot, which took us five cards into the Major Arcanum. So, without writing a paper on the patriarchy let’s dig into my nuanced view of the archetypical father, ruler and ultimately god. 

Let’s get the gender issue over with straight away. Like the empress, if in your life the archetypical father is not a man, no big deal, then that person can be represented. The Emperor is at its most basic a person who wields a lot of formal power in your life. Simple as that. My boss for example – which is a very typical interpretation of the Emperor card – is a woman and she has a lot of power over many aspects of my life. If it wouldn’t be for the large amounts of confidence I have in her, it would be scary how much power she has.

> Renaissance Tarot Emperor: secret 4 legshake and birds. 

Symbolism

The fact that the emperor’s card is numbered 4 is no coincidence, not only is the four figure the symbol of both the planet and god Jupiter, is also the number most strongly associated with stability (think legs of tables or chairs, limbs of mammals, the four corners of the world, a house has four walls, a year has four seasons, but let’s not get too numerological, shall we?). Some cards represent the emperor with one leg crossed, mimicking the number four, like in the Secret Tarot. There will be some birds, representing the sky gods of many cultures meaning power, royalty, strength and good fortune (think Roman, Russian or German emperors that all have bird symbols). Also: crowns, scepter, suits of armour (the protective side of masculinity), thrones and whatnot. Also horns, horns represent penises. 

Sometimes mountains are depicted which might be a bit confusing for some muggles. This can only be understood by understanding the emperor as opposed to and in harmony with the empress. Where the empress has wheat for fertility and growth, the emperor has mountains for infertility and stability. Growth is very nice but one needs a certain doses of stability in life. Fertility and reproducing are all fun and games but someone needs to protect all that growth. I think it’s a nice metaphor for masculinity: (temporary) power without fertility, defending what the empress creates and takes care of. 

> The Rider-Waite Emperor: mountains, penises, I mean horns and good old fashioned bearded ruler. 

I admit not only lack of time withheld me from writing about the emperor. As a deeply masculine card I - as a man who only reluctantly and not that often identifies as a man but can’t really pinpoint what to identify as, or indeed if I need to identify at all - I do not feel qualified to write about the man. But as is often the case: I couldn’t be more wrong. Due to my struggle with, contemplation, participation and perception of and some distance to masculinity I am perfectly placed to write about it.

Upright meaning

I absolutely believe that masculinity needs a new, positive, inclusive definition that inspires people (not just men) to do good. One such view that heavily influenced me was nurturance culture.  

A genderless world where no good (or bad) personality trait is gendered, is not anywhere in the cards (see what I did there?). So how do we as a society give a positive and inspiring content to the idea of masculinity? One of the possible answers are the 4 positive characteristics of the emperor: protection, practicality, authority and structure. 

Sure, I’ll argue against all four of them when talking about other cards, but the tarot is about exploring all sides of the human condition and these 4 have value as well and are all four historically associated with masculinity. Is masculinity in a crisis? Yes, it most certainly is; it has been reduced to a destructive cliché where it used to be kaleidoscopic concept. Not by feminists, but by men themselves. We have not emancipated ourselves. In stead of evolving like women did the last century, we have retreated into an ever more meager concept of masculinity. This is my attempt to reconstruct the notion of inclusive manliness. 

Pillar 1: protection

You gotta fight, for your right, to party. - The Beastie Boys

Know that feeling when you broke down, when you are at your most vulnerable and you find comfort and protection in someone’s arms? I could be talking about a man who protects you late at night in some shady alley from a knife-gang but honestly: how many times are we in need of that? And how much have we needed someone to just be around us, silently but firmly comforting us. Protection and defense imply some potential for destruction but that does not need to be a bad thing if the thing that is being destroyed is a bad thing. Be protective.

Pillar 2: practicality

Yes, I am talking about being able to handle power tools, finish an Ikea closet in 15 minutes and fixing your bike. Cliché much? Yes, but it’s a decent and good quality. While the empress listens to how you had a bike accident and fixes that bleeding knee, the emperor is silently repairing your bike in the shed without you knowing and what after the whole debacle and you find out, makes you smile again. Silent, humble work. Thinking of the small things, the pro’s and con’s and getting on with it. This is where the repressed emotions come into play. Not necessarily a bad thing if not taken too far. There is nothing wrong with temporarily repressing emotions to get shit done as long as you deal with them later on. Sometimes the trash just needs to be taken outside, a meal cooked, a kitchen cleaned or a day at the office endured. Postpone emotions, don’t bottle them up. Be practical.

> left: emperor by kindanddemon > right: emperor by skullsquid

Pillar 3: authority

Both having it/using it as well as dealing with it. Yes, I would also like to live on an island in a sea of mutual respect where there is no need for authority but let’s just wake up shall we? Authority is a thing and we need to deal with it. Easiest way is being an authority yourself. And I mean that in a good way. Standing for something, believing in something, without dogma or rigidness but open and evolving. You could also call it privilege, there’s a lot of it out there and like a sword it should be used and wielded for good, to shield (another symbol you will often find on the card) those who do not have it. Privilege is a real thing, you can’t get rid of it (by yourself or in a short amount of time) but you can use it for good. The emperor tells us to use our gifts (remember the magician?) for good, to be ambitious, not at the cost of others but to the benefit of all. Deserve respect. 

Pillar 4: structure

The stability in number 4 is also associated with structure, systems, procedures and ultimately rules and laws. They exist for a reason and should be there for the good of all. The empress negotiates and compromises, the emperor confirms this by making rules that sustain this peace. I honestly believe everyone can use some structure, some system, some good habits, some good routines, rules you live by. Maybe not 100% of the time, no one asks you to be perfect, no one asks the rules to be perfect. Even the apparent chaos of nature obeys the laws of physics. Constructing order from chaos has its benefits. Yes chaos nurtures – in an empress kind of way – the new and creative, order protects what is fragile and needs to be maintained. Construct systems that benefit you. 

> The Wild Unknown Emperor: The emperor depicted as a large tree overlooking the forest, growing by the bright light of the midday sun, deeply and firmly rooted in the soil. 

The emperor can be anyone or anything that radiates the qualities above, not just a person (your father, husband, boss or landlord) but also an institution: government agencies, large corporations, the army etc. 

Reverse meaning

"Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God?" - Tyler Durden in Fight Club

When the emperor appears reversed in your reading you are hugely and utterly fucked. At its base meaning this card represents power and now that immense power is turned against you in one of three ways:

Opposite: the opposite of manliness is not femininity, get that in your head as soon as possible. The opposite of power is powerlessness, not receiving the responsibility you need; the opposite of protection is getting hurt. The opposite of practicality is inertness, laziness, meddling without achieving, not really trying, not having the required skill without anyone around to help you. The opposite of authority is slavery, submission, believing yourself to be weaker than you are. The opposite of a stable structure that perpetuates good is destructive chaos, not knowing where to start, being confused, having to start over and over again because nothing is fundamentally anchored.  

cock-blocked: The emperor is blocked somehow. You are unable to assert yourself, maybe lost in a maze of regulations, rules and procedures. You are maybe protecting the wrong things or people. You might think you are practical but got something wrong (it’s mostly not the Ikea manual that is wrong or the piece that is faulty, it is most certainly, you). 

Taken too far: This is the domain of toxic masculinity. Yes this is a thing, I suffer from it every day. Masculinity is a prison. This kind is anyway. Defense becomes unwarranted offence, violence, abuse of physical strength, this is the bully knocking you a bleeding nose and your father raping you. This is thinking you can fix everything, that everything is logical and practical and being blind to the emotional, spiritual or natural things in life. This is abuse of authority, corruption, back chamber politics, chauvinism. It is structural sexism, racism and a system that only exists to benefit itself not the people in it. And it is all turned against you. 

One card spread – meditation on the emperor:

"Life seems so much simpler when you're fixing things." - Anakin skywalker in Attack of the Clones

The Emperor is the first break we get in a way. In a very – too – short version of our path up until now the fool asks us to unapologetically be ourselves, the magician asks us to be able, the high priestess begs us to be knowledgeable. The emperor asks us to consolidate that into a system, a structure so what we have achieved so far can be defended. It’s about creating habits that benefit you, assert yourself as you are, yourself, able and knowledgeable without shame or hesitation. Use your abilities as a weapon against injustice. But we’re turning too abstract, I know. Let’s be more practical. Answer all the following questions and jot down one action per question that you can do in the next four days:

Ask yourself what is going well in your life and how you can anchor that in your life. How can you make it last?

Who or what in your immediate environment needs protection (or comfort, or help) and how can you provide that? Does something need fighting and which weapon in your arsenal is best suited?

When were you last intimidated by authority? What characteristic was intimidating? Do you possess that characteristic? Imagine yourself unintimidated in that same situation. What is needed to get you there?

Do you own something that is broken? Try to fix it. (Just like there is an inherent value to growing things crf. the empress, fixing things is itself a healing action).

TLDR: Upright meaning: power, protection, practicality, authority, order Reverse meaning: powerlessness, impotence, confusion, chaos, abuse of power

[irrelevant-pseudonym]

Reasons I Would Talk About A Quiet Place With My Father, Who Hates Horror Films:

- They don’t rely on gore. 

I’m the kind of person who flinches when they do the Hollywood ‘gotta make a blood pact/have something to write with, I’ll just slit my hand open and squeeze out some blood’ thing, so I gore just makes me uncomfortable, but the blood and guts in this movie was surprisingly minimal. You catch glimpses, little mists of blood when one of the creatures tackle-murder somebody, just enough to horrify without being disgusting. You do see the corpse of a woman who’s been torn open, but only briefly, long enough for you to understand what you’re seeing but not so long that you feel like it’s being shoved in your face.

- It’s family-centered 

The driving force in this movie isn’t a rushed romance or hard-boiled survivor instincts. It’s a family who are desperate to take care of each other. The parents work together as a team, the children love and look out for each other, and what terrifies all of them the most isn’t their own potential deaths - it’s the fear that they won’t be able to save each other.

- They make smart decisions 

Everybody in this movie is freakin’ smart. They’ve got plans, they’ve got weapons, they’re self-sufficient. When the kids are separated from the parents, they save each other using practical smarts and sheer effort. The mom is an utter HERO when it comes to surviving. More on that later, but WOW.

- It’s practically child-friendly

Look, I’m definitely not showing this to a child. But this wouldn’t be a bad tween’s-first-horror-movie. The horror comes from built tension, not from gore, not from psychopaths. The villains are monsters. They’re demogorgons dialed to eleven. And there’s no profanity, nudity, or sexual content that I remember seeing. Honestly, the most disturbing part for me was the Nail, and the Nail was a squirmer because you knew it was coming. Again, tension built by suspense, not by shock-factor.

- Feminists ain’t got nothin’ to complain about

It was amazingly refreshing to see a traditional, nuclear family portrayed unapologetically. I loved to see a strong father figure leading and providing for his family without being belittled or portrayed as some kind of oppressor. And they didn’t try to de-feminize the mom to convince us that she’s worth rooting for! She supports her husband, does laundry, cooks, home-schools her children - but in no way is she an oppressed, fragile housewife. This woman is insanely tough. She escapes one of the monsters while in the middle of labor, monsters that find you when you make a sound. She was in labor, and she kept practically silent. She gives birth to a child all by herself in a monster-occupied house, later sneaks past one of the monsters while carrying her newborn baby, and later shoots one in the head with a shotgun. Her character is a PARAGON of womanhood. And in the same way, the father is allowed to be a man without bowing to Hollywood tropes of childish masculinity. There are a number of scenes where he teaches his son how to overcome fear to do what needs to be done, and he makes good on those lessons by doing everything possible to protect his family. Overall, this is a movie that both men and women can get behind, because we both have someone really worth rooting for.