#MLEM WRITES

[mlmxreader]

Date Night | Elliot Stabler x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Elliott stabler

85"You’re adorable when you’re concentrating"

148"I'm taking you on a date, a real date"

289Person A stealing person B’s clothes and getting caught ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Elliot rarely get to go on nice, proper, date for once but as usual, something gets in the way.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ brief non-graphic nudity, swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Help Evacuate Mai for Essential Medical Treatment

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The weight of a bullet proof vest still cast a shadow over Stabler as he made his way through the small flat; he would stop every now and then to look into the various animal tanks and see whatever was out. A few snakes, a scorpion, a lizard. It wasn't unusual.

He had grown used to it and, even then, it was one of the reasons why the kids loved coming here; they loved helping feed the animals and getting them out to hold them - so Stabler made his peace with being around them... even if the scorpions did give him quite a jump.

"Dad's best friend", as the saying went, and it never failed to make Stabler smile.

He draped his coat over the bannister, kicking his shoes off near it, and dared to slowly move towards the bedroom door; he could hear a soft grunting, along with harsh breaths, and swallowed thickly.

But then he heard the plastic snap, and allowed himself to cross the room over to you; you were on your back with your head at the bottom of the bed, holding up a little plastic figurine as you tried desperately to fix it.

It belonged to one of his kids, and he appreciated that you were making an attempt; gently, he lowered your wrists above your head, and knelt down to be eye level with you.

"You're adorable when you're concentrating."

You smiled back, welcoming it when he leaned over to kiss you; your hands went to the sides of his head, pulling him slightly closer as you tried to make it last for more than a few seconds.

Slowly, Stabler moved until he was straddling your waist, his hands planted on the mattress either side of your head as he hummed under his breath. "How you been? C'mon, just talk with me for a sec."

You grinned as you let your hands hold onto his shirt tightly. "Not bad, me and Olivia went to get coffee today... how'd your thing go?"

He grumbled, shaking his head. "I don't really wanna talk about it."

"You never have to," you told him softly. "Did you eat yet?"

He shook his head. "Not tonight, I'm taking you out on a date, a real date this time - not a rugby match or a movie or whatever we did last time."

You thought for a moment, trying to remember. "I think our last date we went to the pub, watched a rugby match, and throughout the entire thing I had to explain the whole game... as well as who you're supporting."

He grinned, a warm feeling in his chest for a moment; Stabler always liked to keep things simple and, well, cost effective - and it was just as well. You hated it when he got you gifts, when he offered to treat you like other people treated their significant others and got the flashy, finer things.

But so did he.

It was perfect that you both preferred the quiet and the simple.

"C'mon," he laughed softly, gently patting your cheek. "Get dressed and I'll met you in the kitchen."

You groaned, mockingly protesting as you tilted your head back and pouted. "Do I have to?"

"Yes!" Stabler murmured as he kissed you softly.

He left you with a final kiss, heading to the kitchen and making both himself and you a decent cup of coffee; whatever they served at the precinct was coffee by name, but it certainly didn't taste like it. It was like a mix of cardboard and steamed water.

The good, cheap, stuff that you kept stocked up was far better, and he knew exactly how to make it the way you liked it.

But when you didn't come back to him once he had finished making it, he was a little concerned.

Stabler called out to you as he made his way back to the bedroom, pausing on the stairs for a moment; you didn't answer, and he grew a little concerned.

He continued, pausing by the door and letting his instincts take over; he listened closely, but heard nothing.

He pushed the door open; you were lying naked on the bed, just about to pull on one of his shirts and steal it from him, again. He stole a more than quick look, trying not to grin.

Usually, Stabler would have closed the door and hurried back to the kitchen, but he cleared his throat and tried not to laugh when he heard you rush to put your trousers on.

Once you gave him the go ahead, he entered the room at last, and smiled.

"You're such a perfect gentleman," you told him, tugging the shirt on and letting it drape around your shoulders.

Stabler tilted his head from side to side for a moment. "Oh, I'm not. I snuck a peek, and... wow."

You laughed, shaking your head fondly and gripping his shirt as you hummed softly. "Why am I not surprised?"

He shrugged, putting an arm around you and backing you up against the bed. "Can you blame me?"

You couldn't help it, groaning softly when Stabler started to kiss your neck softly; your hand went to the back of his neck as you spurred him on, whimpering softly when he pulled away.

"You gonna give me my shirt back?" He murmured against your skin softly.

You shook your head, cupping his jaw gently. "You're gonna have to make me, detective."

Stabler grinned, gently starting to push it from your shoulders as he slowly lowered you down completely; your back on the mattress as you told him to keep going. To keep going and going and going.

"You can't keep stealing my shirts," he told you with a soft, playful, growl. "I'm not gonna have any left to wear to work."

"Is that a problem?" You asked, tilting your head. 'It wouldn't be for me."

Stabler shook his head fondly, placing his hand on your chest and feeling your heart rate for a second. "C'mon, we have a date. We can fool around later."

[kingmlem]

This isn't related to either of the big projects, just a little plot bunny that I'm proud of/going to share. I might (heavy on the might) expand on it one day, but for now I'm trying to focus on Ikag and 3hrs.

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

He can't hear what the nurse in front of him is saying. The ringing in his ears seems to just- echo through his head, bouncing around and never really absorbing. Maggie's clinging to his neck, wet sobs wracking her whole entire body.

He's vaguely aware of his mother trying to 'relieve him' of her.

He's acutely aware of how he clutches the little girl closer, practically daring the woman to try taking her. He doesn't even feel bad when she recoils like she'd been burned.

Good, he has the presence to think. Because of course she'd show her face after nearly twenty-years no-contact- not the time.

He doesn't doubt she'll try to fight him for Maggie. Doesn't doubt there's a sea of lawyers in his future.

There's arguing now, Maggie's gone so still she's practically a doll-

"-oes he know about raising a little girl?! You expect me to just sit back and let this happen?"

"Mrs. Kinard, this was your daughter's dying request-" He should really get the nurse's name, she's really standing her ground on this. He should send her a fruit basket- maybe flowers... something.

"Under duress. Of course she picked the first-"

"Go home," His voice is rough- dry, feeling far more fragile than he sounds- his mind finally catching up to the amount of noise around him. He makes sure to keep his gaze hard when he looks at his mother, terrified that one glint of weakness and she'll see how hard he's trying not to break. "Call your lawyers tomorrow, if you want. I don't care. Andie wanted this- me. You don't get to come back here and demand her kid."

"Tom, you know this is better-" God, that cajoling tone grates at his already frayed nerves, crawls against his skin like a worm-

"If you want to fight it, then call your lawyers." He wasn't ending this by just... giving up on the toddler, who-despite having thought she'd cried herself to sleep- was making small whimpers into his shirt, clutching her little fist into the fabric of his hood as hard as she could. "But know I don't intend to just... Let you abandon another kid." It's a low blow, and he knows it, but the affronted noise that leaves his mother's mouth is gratifying enough to say that he'd won. The nurse gives her one last triumphant look before ushering Tommy and his new charge into one of the open bays and closing the curtains.

"I'm sorry-" He starts, taking a seat on the bed when the nurse-Daniella, her heavily stickered nametag reveals- motions for him to sit.

"It happens more often than you'd think, usually it goes the other way though," She explains, running a comforting gloved hand down Maggie's back. His heart aches when she shivers, unconsciously pulling her a little closer, only relenting when he hears the soft 'plink' of glass shards falling onto the floor. He'd been so caught up in getting here, he never stopped to take stock of what had happened. They'd explained there'd been an accident, given him a location, and he'd been off, arms full of shaken toddler the minute he walked in the door.

Logically, there had been more steps, he's sure, but menial paperwork fades away in light of learning your sister and her husband had just died, and you're now their daughter's guardian.

Tommy shushes the little girl gently as he pulls her a little away, finally surveying the damage. There's still pieces of safety glass clinging to her brown curls, small cuts littering her alarmingly red, tear-stained cheeks. There's a cut somewhere along her hairline, judging by the crusted blood in her bangs.

Tommy tuts when she sniffles, meeting her terrified gaze and feeling his heart shatter further. He tucks an errant piece of hair behind her ear when she tucks her thumb into her mouth, feeling the panic in his chest finally give way to the threat of tears.

"They checked her over when she came in," Daniella offers, picking more of the glass pieces away from Maggie's jacket and hair, face so full of that gentle sympathy he's seen too many times at work. "Nothing broken. No concussion or neck injury. There'll be some bruising where the seatbelt was, especially around the pelvis and chest, but that will fade. A small sprain in her hip, so walking might be painful for a little-"

He knows better than to ask, but the word slips out anyway.

You never asked in this kind of work.

"How-?" How had this tiny, fragile thing made it through all of that? How had she lost both of her parents, but she was relatively unscathed?

Daniella does him the service of not answering and he has a brief moment to think that she'd must've read his paperwork-must know he's in a similar field- when she lightly touches his elbow where it's tucked like a bench under the back of Maggie's thighs. The look on her face is the same he gives to people after each rescue, don't question miracles.'

He lets Daniella- 'Dani, Mags and I are old friends here, huh?'- finish cleaning his niece up, signs the paperwork she brings him, and prepares to leave, only to find himself stuck at the door.

"Where... I don't have-" Maggie's finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, head tucked against the side of his neck. His own apartment's a shitty little one-bedroom settled in a complex with walls so thin he can hear the sink drip three apartments over. It'd been just enough to get him by, get him through the thing with Abby- it was never meant for long term, but now it just feels... negligent in a way. Like he should've been preparing for this, like he should've known-

"She'll probably want to sleep in her own bed, at least until her mind catches up." Dani offers, hands tucked into her own pockets as she stands with them at the door. "She's exhausted, best to bring her somewhere she knows."

"Right," Tommy breathes. "Thank you, for everything."

"It's what we do," Dani claps a hand gently on his shoulder before walking back down the hall, "If you need anything, we're literally always here. You got this though, I see it."

He doesn't. See it, that is. Every part of him is panicking, racing and jumping hurdles until he's almost sick with it by the time he gets to his truck. He doesn't even have a car seat, cursing himself before finally electing to set his niece along the passenger seat. He can hear his sister's voice in the back of his head screaming how unsafe it is, how he's taking her daughter's life into his own hands- he hovers his hand protectively over the toddler as soon as he gets in the truck.

He doesn't let the tears fall when her hand reaches out blindly, grasping onto the hem of his sweatshirt pocket before settling once more. He doesn't let the tears fall when he pulls out of the hospital, where an incoming ambulance threatens to wake the sleeping girl once again.

He doesn't cry while driving to his sister's house.

He can't.

He drives the safest he's ever driven. Five miles under any speed limits, slow corners, early and easy brakes- hand constantly hovered over the child in case of any sudden stops.

He doesn't cry when he pulls into his sister's driveway, her car still parked outside the garage like if he walked in, she'd be there.

He doesn't cry when he sets Maggie up in her tiny princess bed, making sure to leave the canopy open and the spinning nightlight on as he steps back into the hall.

His eyes stay dry until he sits down at the kitchen island, the landline blinking innocently next to him, answering machine full.

Andie's cell is sitting next to the coffee pot, and he feels the dam finally break.

[mlembug]

started writing a fan fic for Magical Trans because why not

[silanb]

Suggestion: [Moderate: Success] we should give him a kiss on the forehead to show our appreciation, physical affection is warranted in situations like this!

Empathy: He may appreciate that

Electrochemistry: [Easy: failure] Wait! We like the Lieutenant a *lot * we should kiss him with tongue to really prove it

Reaction speed: [Difficult: failure] Wait—

You- *Kiss the Lieutenant— with tongue*

[vibke]

Observe Pure Vanilla's true form, the guise in which he was brought to this world. The star-shaped mark on his head is a sign that his existence is vicious and pernicious since he was created artificially by the will of the Being more powerful that life itself

I decided to post smth about my first Pure Vanilla AU! The plot is actually really, I just need to pull myself together and write it down. (Will try to do that during my flight) This is a slight departure from my main AU, since I'm at a bit of a dead end and can't come up with a decent development of the story.

In short, Vanilla was originally created by Shadow Milk shortly before the beast's incarceration to keep the cookie world at bay and deprive them of the will to fight and resist by the time SM gets out of his shackles. The meaning of his existence is to destroy any sparks of hope, entire kingdoms of cookies and sow discord. But pure, albeit extremely fragile curiosity prompts him to study the cohesion and will to live of these helpless but persistent creatures.

Can he become something more than a ruthless tool of his creator? Will see

[viciousbite]

Don't mind him, he's playing dead in his cybersnake altmode. His whole long frame was upside down, golden scales up towards the sky. . . Surely it ain't a trap?

[mmmlemmm]

Folks who see this, can yall drop some songs with pirate vibe? I am making a playlist for my novel

[weirdest0username]

Cozy sunrise smooch for the lonely lil guy ❤️

Solanum (left) and Wolfgang (right) by - Me

(me when I mess up their height difference again- AAAA. Pretend they're kneeling or something I guess)

[iti-kash-ful]

Brain : *stupid thought*

Me : *posts it on Tumblr*

[froggiechaos]

Hi I'm froggiechaos!! ♡

Here's a little get to know me..

Some things that I like:

• CAVETOWN !!

• Minecraft

• reading

• music

• Tommyinnit

• James marriot

• Stickers

• Frogs

What I like doing:

• Digital designing

• Video editing

• Writing (somewhat)

• Playing music

Some random facts abt me ☆:

• I'm a lesbian

• I go by she/they

• I play sax

• I'm REALLY awkward

• I love collecting things!

I hope you enjoy my content 🫶

[mlmxreader]

Eager Beaver | Art the Clown X gn!reader

『••✎••』

requested by anonymous

↳ ❝ Art

42“It sounds stupid, but I’d feel a lot safer if you slept with me”

262“Why do you hang around me so much?” ❞

: ̗̀➛ Art comes to see you in a pretty good mood, although perhaps it's time for him to come to terms with what he thinks about you.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing, implied sexual references, blood & murder mention, jealous!Art

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Help Dr Bashar to evacuate his family from Gaza

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You always left the bathroom door open and the front door unlocked when you were in the shower, as you had learned pretty quickly that if you didn't, you would open the door to find Art sitting on the floor and pouting and sulking; so when the bathroom door creaked from being pushed slightly, and you heard the footsteps of socks on the tiled floor, you only cleared your throat, and shouted over the stream.

"Just a minute, Art!"

He sat on the toilet seat and tapped his legs to the music from your phone, his head moving side to side with the beat as he tried to distract himself for a moment; he wasn't sure why he came back so often, and he wasn't sure why he never even tried to hurt you, either, but he wasn't going to question it if he could help it.

He didn't like to think about those things. He just liked to focus on satiating his appetite; he could still smell the scent of those three washes his costume had gone through at the laundromat, as well as the thick stench of the complimentary shampoo that had been put in the public shower. He didn't like it.

It didn't smell like your laundry powder or your shampoo at all.

He greatly disliked that, perhaps even hated it. But he wasn't going to question that, either.

The shower turned off, and Art was finally greeted by the sight of you in your towel and the thick smell of your shampoo; he grinned, and mimicked clapping as he slightly turned from side to side, his feet stamping on the floor silently with exaggerated movements.

You raised a brow, and took a quick whiff of him. "You went to the laundromat again?"

He nodded. Gesturing out the scene; he had gone in, murdered the cleaner who had been mopping the floors, washed his costume three times, showered whilst it dried, then walked over. He wanted to be clean when he walked in, and you knew how much he detested the feel and smell of dried blood.

You nodded slowly. "You smell good."

Art beamed, showing off those lamprey like teeth as he gazed at you, not sure if he understood entirely why it made him so fucking happy to hear such a thing. He opened his arms, beckoning you for a hug, but you shook your head as you laughed softly.

"At least wait until I'm dried and dressed."

He folded his arms tightly to his chest, and watched with greedy eyes as you towel dried yourself, thinking about how easy it would have been for him to tear through that soft flesh and strip you down to the bone; he settled once you were dressed, and when you checked your phone, you laughed softly.

"Another guy from that hookup app wants to meet me," you explained, "he can fuck right off he thinks I'm going anywhere this late."

Art scowled. He didn't know why, but whenever you mentioned a new man you would see for a night, it made his blood thicken and boil and bubble; he hated the thought of it, and hated it even more when he could smell them on your clothes.

You were never a couple, though. He knew that.

"Art, can you stay the night?" You asked, and he nodded without hesitation, but you still felt the need to explain. "There's just a lot going on right now, and I know it sounds stupid, but I'd feel a lot safer if you slept with me."

He nodded again, and took your phone from you; his fingers worked effortlessly to type, and when he handed it back to you, you could only smile.

"It's really sweet of you to say you'd kill anyone who made me feel unsafe," you reassured, rewarding him with a kiss to the cheek. "You're a good friend."

He scowled again. He hated that. Friend. He didn't want to be your friend, he wanted to be like those men you saw for a night, except permanent.

He shook his head.

"What?" You furrowed your brows. "What, you don't like being friends?"

He shook his head again. You sat on the edge of the bath facing him.

"So, what do you want?"

He mimicked it out; kissing and hugging and giving each other presents. Holding hands. You laughed softly.

"Wait wait wait," you chuckled. "Why do you hang around me so much? Is that what you want?"

He nodded, pointing to you with one hand and touching his nose with the other.

You nodded slowly, and grinned. "Why didn't you say so, then?"

He shrugged. He didn't know how to explain it to himself, let alone to you, and he wasn't about to try either; maybe he could get Vicky or the Little Girl to explain it properly, but he knew for certain that he couldn't.

There was just something about you that intoxicated him, made him feel all weird and as if his lust for blood and guts and gore had all faded away entirely.

There was just something about you that he liked. A lot.

You moved, and sat on his lap with your hands on his shoulders. "Art, look at me... are you sure this is what you want?"

He nodded eagerly, gripping the backs of your thighs until you could feel his fingers digging into the skin.

"So you'll stay?" You asked quietly. "Permanently?"

Another eager nod.

"Kiss me," you whispered, cupping his face in your hands as you met him halfway.

Art was eager, all teeth and tongue as he refused to contain himself; when you moaned softly against his mouth, he couldn't help it, and his hips bucked slightly. He was disappointed when you pulled away.

"Come with me into the bedroom," you told him quietly. "We can do that all night, if you want to."

Art would have ripped your arm off if he had not been somewhat careful, dragging you to the bedroom as you laughed along and told him to slow down, there was no rush.

[kingmlem]

Hello, just me dropping off the weekly snippet. This is another backlog post that's fully unrelated to anything currently in the works; it's actually from last November (8.06), so it actually takes place right around there... Super angsty and filled with dramatics, but we love her anyway, and we post her anyway.

There's a second chapter to this also available that I'll post later, but as for a final end, it doesn't have one yet- or, well, it does, it's just super rough and unfinished. So, if I polish it up, you may see the last chapter as well.

As for now, your weekly snippet.

Trigger warnings: Angst, complete overpopulation of italics, canon-divergent, claustrophobia (just in case), brief description of death,

🧑🏻‍🚒🧑🏻‍🚒

Time. Everyone always said to 'give things time,' or 'things will work out in time.'

The problem with that particular ideology, was that he- essentially- had gone over his allotted time slot.

Someone get the crook, he was still kicking, still breathing. And that's after being pinned by an engine, stuck in a tsunami... Dying by lightning strike.

At this point, he started to think 'time' might've been the last thing he needed. Which, he guessed is where the problem was, right? Always going too fast, too soon, too much-

But really, what other options did he have? He practically lived on death's edge, and currently? It wasn't really any different.

The tank next to him squealed, pressurized gas leaking from the bolted body.

I'm your first, not your last.

It really had to be the universe's dark sense of comedy, because in the three months since Tommy walked out of his loft- out of his life- Buck hadn't been able to meet someone who erased him.

He'd tried, really, he had. Spent the first month falling into every other bed he could, ready to forget the way the pilot could take him apart and put him back together with a- frankly- disgusting amount of care. Spent the second month hating himself for the first month, especially after the Lucy incident, her basically flaying both him and Tommy over a cup of coffee as he sobered up on her couch. It had been an eye-opening experience, sure, he just hated having to listen to it alone.

Three months. Half of their official relationship. Wasn't there some old rule about how long it took to get over a relationship?

One of the smaller tanks across the room burst, a rocket of blue flaring against the orange and black.

Three months of trying to find someone to fill that void, someone who had the right smile, the right laugh. Someone who made 'Evan' feel like a person, instead of a stand-in. Dates, hook-ups, hell even just quick meet-ups for coffee... He'd spent his three months actually trying.

Another smaller bottle-empty this time- burst across the room, the metallic boom echoing loud enough to vibrate even through his mask.

Looking back, it was probably stupid, similar to the hand sanitizer factory going up in flames, him finding the last living soul in the building. This time, however, he was the only living soul left in the building, the two workers having perished from an exploding tank, hardly recognizable under the layers of ash and smoke. Yet another hazard of the job, he supposed, death's edge and all that.

Borrowed time, he'd heard said. Did that classify his time as stolen, then? He did already die once. Maybe that was Daniel's time and he was just leeching off of it, taking the years he was supposed to give his brother.

I'm your first, not your last.

He'd run the full gambit about how that had made him feel.

Depressed at first, obviously, because he really had thought what they had was going somewhere. Angry-no, pissed- because how dare Tommy just... Give up like that, like they hadn't been growing together through their six months- Depression again, this time flavored more like self-loathing and self-deprecation, maybe he was too much, maybe it was on him once again, he pushed too hard too soon. Which, then led to anger again because they had talked about the big shit before, conversations about what mattered, what didn't, and everything in between, and Tommy chose the moment Buck had asked him to move in? To panic? Bargaining- maybe Tommy was just nervous? Scared after the whole Abby reveal? Worried he might not have been enough? Worried that he might end up just as broken as Buck had felt these past few months? (Anger-spite, really- petty, and hot burned through him at this one, because again, how dare he get to make that decision for them.)

Finally coming to acceptance, only pretty recently, actually. He'd stopped moping around on dates, stopped trying to fuck the anger out of his system, and it all came to a stunning calm when the new lease to his loft came in the mail. Another two years living alone, probably, in the loft that used to feel too big for him and his stuff. He'd thrown out the last Tommy-worn sweatshirt when he found it in the bottom of his hiking bag, the lease came the same day.

It felt like the final nail in the proverbial (almost literal, going by the now rapidly bursting empty gas bottles across the room) coffin. A final piece saying it was all really over, that Tommy wasn't coming back.

Sure, he was still alive, still hung out with Eddie from time to time, still went to bars with Hen and Chim now that that connection had been reestablished, but he wasn't in Buck's life anymore. Only in periphery. Which, he's not going to lie, absolutely fucking sucked. 'Oh hey, the guy you actually started falling for is still kinda around, even though you're trying your damnedest to forget the way his smile made you forget to breathe.'

Totally no big deal.

He didn't blame his friends, Tommy was a fucking cool guy. He was a badass pilot, a skilled Muay Thai 'expert' (Buck could still hear the exasperated-but still fond- 'Evan, I'm really not,' as Tommy took his gloves off. Breathy, and-not helping.) Muay Thai fighter, sarcastic bastard whose eyes did things whenever he leant in close to whisper filthy things into his ear- NOT. HELPING.)

His radio crackled to life next to his ear, someone's muttered commands echoing in his head. Muffled, garbled commands bouncing off the cement, overpowered by the continued booming of exploding bottles.

It wasn't like he could really answer anyway, not when each breath he took sent tremors through his whole body, pain radiating from his chest and back like-well, like he was punched through with a hot gas tank, flying mach-whatever, straight into his chest, which sent him flying backward into a storage shelf lined with more solid pieces of metal.

So, yeah.

Maybe it felt like being kicked by a horse? Not really, his time on the ranch pretty much taught him how that felt. Maybe multiply it by ten-or a hundred- he couldn't really tell, only hoped nothing had actually severed his spinal chord. Maybe one of the solid pieces behind him was just pressed really well on a nerve, that's why everything felt numb, too heavy to move.

More garbled static, more pop-booms, like some kind of twisted sort of lullaby... Swan song? Another bout of the universe's dark humor, or was it his own hubris?

Great, he was philosophizing.

He really was going to die here, huh? Stuck against a shelf or machine, in an industrial recycling center.

Bitterly, he thought to just add it to the ever growing list, maybe this time someone wouldn't re-tip the hourglass.

"-kley- Buck?!" The voice-not from the radio- roared over the cacophony of sound.

I'm your first, not your last.

"God damn it, Evan!" That voice was supposed to be in the air. Air Support. Extra suppressants on standby for when the factory inevitably blew. That voice wasn't supposed to say his name like that, ever. As a rule. It sounded wrong. Even worse than the 'Buck,' that had been practically tossed at him before the door closed. Wrong.

Wrong that Buck felt his chest tighten as soon as he saw the shadow, the body belonging to that voice silhouetted against the orange and black, still. Just like he was in the hospital bay, all over again, grimy and soot-covered but still there.

Why here? Here, where he was probably supposed to die, in a comedic turn of fate or also quiet possibly his own hubris. Still hadn't decided on that one.

Two more shadows followed the first, the one belonging to that damned voice, commands getting lost in the loud screech of the bolts on the tank stretching past their limits.

"-king stay alive, Evan Buckley. Just- Jesus just stay fucking alive." Muffled and drowned in the insulation on Buck's own respirator, the scream that ripped from his own lungs as they moved him was barely audible over the words.

I'm your first, not your last.

Funny, because before he went under, Tommy's face was the last he saw, blue eyes swimming with fear.

Just another fucked up joke from the universe, who once again seemed to have a hard-on for putting him in these situations.

[mlembug]

Shy boy meets teasing girl

Description: A geeky university student confesses to his crush, gets turned into a girl. Shenanigans happen. Chapter 1 originally published: 13th of May 2019

Chapter 1 "Now this is a story all about how…"

A loud noise of my alarm clock woke me up.

“Ugh…”, I grunted, knowing that five hours are not enough for a healthy sleep. Still, I begrudgingly rose from the bed and continued with my morning routine. The clock indicated it’s 7 o’clock. Just enough time to shower and catch a bus.

I met up with my friend, Eric, who happened to be riding the same bus to uni.

“Hi! How it’s going, Patrick?”, he asked.

“Yeah, well, you know. Stuff.”, I responded.

“That wasn’t very informative.”, he told me.

“Yeah, it’s just I’m sleepy and not in a mood.”

“That’s what you kept telling me over the last month.”

“I can’t help it, Factorio is just so addicting.”

“If you keep going through life like that, you’ll finish uni without scoring with a single girl.”

“Man, is it all you keep doing in your life? Taking enjoyment in hedonistic pleasures of life?”

“I don’t really want to hear that from you. Also, how are your attempts with Wendy going?”

I was shocked. “How do you…?”

“That’s obvious from your face. You spend most of your time on lectures staring at her.”, Eric responded.

“This is a secret between us.”, I responded quickly.

“Sure, sure. But, you know, the longer you keep that a secret, the bigger is the chance that she’ll slip away from you.”

“There’s no reason why she would want to be with me, you know.”

“You just need some confidence, and you’ll easily attract girls.”, Eric said. “How about this one: I’ll give you 70 bucks if you confess to Wendy today. Even if you get rejected, you’ll still have 70 bucks.”

Thought about it a bit. “Deal.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Better prepare the money.”, I said, a bit more confident than before. Wendy is a friend I’ve got to know only recently, after I enrolled into college, because of her being in the same group as me. While she wasn’t completely a stranger, trying to ask her out felt to me like a gamble. Then again, it’s not like I had ever attempted asking out girls, so who knows.

I couldn’t focus on the lecture much, instead I tried coming up with an idea how to approach her. Oh well, I could just try the straightforward thing. I take my phone and type out:

“After lecture, can we talk for a bit in private? I have something to tell you.”

“All right.”, she responded.

…and now we wait.

We met at the usual place.

“There’s something I want to tell you.”, I said, then continued:

“I’ve been looking up to you for the last few weeks. Will you go out with me?”

“On one condition. You’ll need to change for me - drink this.”, she hands me a ordinarily-looking bottle with a red liquid.

“Eh? That’s it?”, I asked, twisting off the cap and lifting the bottle in order to drink it.

“Wait, you don’t know yet what will happen if you drink it!” - she interrupted me.

I stopped, and then she continued with something I never expected to hear:

“You’ll turn into a girl.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Because I’ll definitely turn into a girl by drinking this. Ha ha.”

I chugged down the entire bottle.

“See? Nothing happened. Does this mean we’re going out now?”

“Sure, we’ll meet here again, tomorrow 5PM.”

“5PM? All right, see ya!”

I walked away.

“…That was weird.”, I thought. “Why would she make such a joke at that moment…?”

The rest of the day at uni was fairly uneventful, so I rode the bus back home, and kept playing Factorio. Around midnight I noticed that somehow I was way more tired than usual, so I laid down in the bed. Despite me feeling so tired, I had a hard time falling asleep, so I can’t remember the exact moment I did. My sense of consciousness faded…

I found myself in high school, talking with Eric, when all of a sudden my clothes change into a schoolgirl uniform! He didn’t seem to notice this, somehow. So I try to allude to this in my conversation.

“Is there something weird about the clothes I’m wearing right now?”, I asked.

“No, what’s wrong with them? No stains or anything.”

I frowned.

“I get it that a girl like you pays a lot of attention to her appearance, but you seem to be panicking too much.”

What.

I tried to walk around. No one seemed to pay any attention. Is there anyone who’ll comment on a guy crossdressing?!

“What are you doing here?”, Wendy asked. “Our next lesson is P.E.! We have to get going and change clothes.”

Wendy grabs my arm and drags me to the girls’ changing room. I walk towards the lockers. Several girls eyed me over, but with no comment from their side. I open my own locker, and I see my own stuff, but the clothes that are there are girls’ clothes.

…what the hell was that?

I woke up, feeling fairly refreshed. I looked at the alarm clock.

“FUCK! It’s 11! I overslept!”, I shouted, while trying to get up as soon as possible.

Fumbling around, I got up from the bed, but suddenly fell because somehow I tripped on my own pants.

“Ow.”

I lifted my legs and left the pants on the floor. Then, I ran to the bathroom. I felt that my body was lighter than usual. I looked at the bathroom mirror. It was an unusual sight. The person in the mirror moved in response to every my move, but it wasn’t me. Somehow most of the details didn’t quite match. I looked at them more closely, from head to toes. The hair was nearly reaching the shoulders, and the color of it matched my own. The face had a smooth skin, nearly babylike. The person wore the same pajama shirt I was wearing, but it was unfit to their physique. Two visible bumps were protruding out of that person’s chest. This raised the alarm signs in my brain. I moved my hands towards my chest. I felt a soft sensation. My fears were confirmed.

“WHY DO I HAVE BOOBS?”, I shouted.

I touched my body all over, feeling a smooth, soft skin. Desperately trying to deny what was happening, I moved my hands between my legs.

“It’s… it’s gone!”, I cried out. How does one become a girl overnight? How?

I asked myself in my thoughts.

Soon enough, I recalled my yesterday’s conversation.

“I have to meet Wendy as soon as possible!”

That means I have to leave my house. Leaving the house means I have to dress up. Dress up means I have to wash myself.

So I took off my clothes and walked under the shower. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. But I don’t have a choice.

I took a better look at myself. “There’s no way I’ll be able to hide these.”, I said.

I cupped one of the breasts with my hand. Even while standing straight up, it’s large enough to fill my entire hand.

It’s so soft… I wonder how would…

“This is not the time for my horny fantasies! I’m already late!”, I interrupted myself, and got down to washing my body, with as little excitement as possible.

After that, I browsed through the cabinet, looking for clothes that could possibly fit me. Digging through, I found a old shirt that I didn’t bother throwing away, but happened to be smaller than the size I’m currently wearing. This bad habit of mine of not throwing away old clothes actually saved my butt today. I finished dressing up and ran to catch a bus.

After a while later, I managed to get to uni without any incidents. I nervously looked around, searching for Wendy. She was nowhere to be found.

If I won’t meet her earlier, I’ll just have to hope she keeps her promise and she’ll be there as promised at 5PM, and in the meantime attempt to not stand out from the crowd.

“Oh, hi there!”, I heard Eric’s voice.

“How are you doing, Pa…”

I turn around.

“Oh, sorry, I got the wrong person.”, Eric said.

He can’t recognize me? That’s convenient, I don’t really want to face him right now, who knows what ideas he may get.

So I tried moving away from Eric, to avoid his stares.

It’s about 5PM, the same place as yesterday.

“Wow, you turned out nicely.”, I heard.

I immediately recognized Wendy’s voice.

“HOW COME I’M A GIRL?”, I shouted to her.

“You drank a potion which turned you into a girl. Why are you surprised?”, Wendy asked.

“Why do you treat it as something normal? People don’t usually change sex overnight!”, I said. “What will I do with my life? How will I attend uni? My life is over!”

“It’s not like I didn’t warn you before you drank that bottle.”, Wendy said. “And besides, it’s not like your life is over. Half of the world are women.”

“How will I explain this to everyone? It’s not like I’ll just say ‘oh, hey, Patrick is a girl now’ to my mom, dad, and my friends. Can I turn back?”

“I’ll help you with explanations. And yes, you can turn back. After all, since a potion managed to change you, the same potion can turn you back. But…”

“But…?”, I asked.

“Would you even want to?”, she asked seductively, moving her left hand’s index finger across my chest, and touching my chin with her right hand’s index finger.

“We’ll go on dates, buy some cute clothes, watch movies in your room and chill… Patricia.”

I squirmed at the thought of me shopping for women’s clothes.

“For what reason did I turn into a girl anyway?”

“I’m a lesbian. Normally I would’ve rejected you outright, but I’ve known you for a bit, so I thought this could work out.”

“It still feels too weird. I’ve been a guy my whole life. How am I expected to behave like a girl now? I’ll be a freak!”

“C’mon, you’ve got so far, other guys who had asked me out gave up earlier than you. Do you want to pussy out now?”, she said.

“Hmmm…”

“Give it a try, I promise I’ll make it worth it.”, she attempted to convince me.

“All right, I’ll give it a try for a week.”

“Yay! Now we’re girlfriend and girlfriend!”

“So what do we do now?”

“First we should get you in some clothes that won’t make you look suspicious.”

“What?”

“These are clearly boys’ clothes, and they’re too big for you now.”

[caffeinateddiscoverer]

I'm not super into boiled eggs, but for a lot of people cooking and eating an egg is like a religious ceremony first thing in the morning (compare coffee enthusiasts). and it has to be 100% perfect exactly the way they like it.

of course i have an egg cooker, i am not a barbarian. they even make them for single households:

(granted, even germans make fun of this one)

an egg cup is just the reasonable conclusion of this obsession: you can maximize eggy enjoyment by taking small shallow spoonfulls. and maybe pour a shitton of salt on it between bites

corded egg slicer? needed for salads & appetizers. if you're the kind of person who likes slices of boiled egg

regarding the egg cozy - there's a lengthy wikipedia page - and it does get used. think of the poor person sleeping in who might otherwise have to eat a completely cooled egg?

HOWEVER i do balk at using any kind of tool to cut off the top of an egg, not even a knife. instead you politely knock on top of the more pointed side (the side with the air cell gets poked and put down in the egg cup) and gently peel. be one with the egg

also, see the tiny salt shaker? everyone gets one so they may eat their frühstück eggs synchronously without having to fight over the salt

[viciousbite]

//have this random one too where I picked random canons--

[followthebluebell]

Hello! I was wanting to hear more about non-purebred brachycephaly in cats. This is my seven year old tuxedo girl, Miss Morgie, (shes biologically male but the rescue agency mislabled her). She was a rescue from Kuwait. I have no info on where she was found or if she was the product of a kitty mill or backyard breeder there. Do cats like this breed freely anywhere? I wouldn't say that her smushed snout impairs her as much as other cats that I've seen. She will make a honking noise when upse (it's extremely cute) but I've never seen her grow tired or wheeze when playing. She was active when she was young. She still play fights with our other cat.

Im also not sure if this is a "breed" characteristic linked to the mutation or nurture but she seems more... docile and even-tempered than other rescue cats I've had. She will let strangers pet her belly, she tolerates my gf's mom's hyperactive pom puppy and used to let the little doggy /h*mp/ her when we used to dog sit (I cut that out DW). I've also noticed she has next to no practical hunting instincts! Our other rescue who is just A Normal Kitty Guy chatters and gets murder crazy about birds while she just windmills her gigantic paws and meows. 😭😭 it's entirely possible that she's just a special lil gal, but I've heard the mutation affects intellect...? I wouldn't say she is a dumb cat by any stretch, she understand some basic commands and I've inadvertently trained her to recognize when I'm having panic attacks. She also seems to intuitively pick up on creative ways to get her humans to do her bidding (like slamming cabinets open and shut precisely when we are on zoom calls).

I included photos so you can see the extent of her brachycephaly. We call her a half-smush. I wanted to write a lot in defense of my girl's intellect because people said she looks "wall eyed" and like she has "no thoughts" and thar just made me really sad!!!!

I want to dedicate my cat ownership from now on to rescuing abandoned cats with brachycephaly bc of how much I adore her. I even adore brushing and washing her and all the other nonsense we cursed these poor, cute critters to need. She's just a joy. Ty ty ty for reading !! 😭😭

1. Picture of her at 2 years old 2. Her and her "prey" (my socks) 3. Tino (my gf's cat) and our dame 4-5. Mlem.

Aww, what a beauty!! She's gorgeous!

"Do cats like this breed everywhere?"

Yes, absolutely! tbh, every trait exhibited by a specific breed is naturally occurring within feral cat populations. By this, I mean someone, some hundred years ago, picked up a squishy faced cat from a naturally occurring cat litter and went, "oh, wow, I want more of this :)" and then set out to breed that particular trait consistently. But the squishy faced trait still exists within that original cat population, and cats are spread widely.

In addition, cats are beloved pets all over the world. They are present in EVERY continent except Antarctica (and probably some islands). I think Kuwait in particular has hosted a few cat shows.

While many cats are very beloved in Kuwait, it also has very... non-existent animal protection laws. Many cats are abandoned. It's entirely possible your girl is a Fancy Girl who was abandoned or got lost.

it's entirely possible that she's just a special lil gal, but I've heard the mutation affects intellect���?

To an extent, yes. It's a bit complicated. The mutation that gives brachy cats their unique look also affects their skull. Their skull shape puts pressure on the mesencephalon portion of their brain and this can cause issues with sensory, motor controls, reflexes, and impulse control. As a result, many owners believe their brachy cats are a bit slow to react to things, extremely tolerant of nonsense, and tend to fall off of furniture.

I can't say if this affects your cat.

This doesn't affect a cat's emotional intelligence, for lack of a better phrase. They are still very much in tune with their owners.

Thank you very much for loving her. Her coat is absolutely immaculate. It's clear how much you care and love this cat. It's reflected in everything she is. Thank you for sharing her too.