#mid week supplementals

[aipurjopa]

“you don’t give up and it’s the most annoying thing ever”

[reasonsforhope]

"It is 70 years since AT&T’s Bell Labs unveiled a new technology for turning sunlight into power. The phone company hoped it could replace the batteries that run equipment in out-of-the-way places. It also realised that powering devices with light alone showed how science could make the future seem wonderful; hence a press event at which sunshine kept a toy Ferris wheel spinning round and round.

Today solar power is long past the toy phase. Panels now occupy an area around half that of Wales, and this year they will provide the world with about 6% of its electricity—which is almost three times as much electrical energy as America consumed back in 1954. Yet this historic growth is only the second-most-remarkable thing about the rise of solar power. The most remarkable is that it is nowhere near over.

To call solar power’s rise exponential is not hyperbole, but a statement of fact. Installed solar capacity doubles roughly every three years, and so grows ten-fold each decade. Such sustained growth is seldom seen in anything that matters. That makes it hard for people to get their heads round what is going on. When it was a tenth of its current size ten years ago, solar power was still seen as marginal even by experts who knew how fast it had grown. The next ten-fold increase will be equivalent to multiplying the world’s entire fleet of nuclear reactors by eight in less than the time it typically takes to build just a single one of them.

Solar cells will in all likelihood be the single biggest source of electrical power on the planet by the mid 2030s. By the 2040s they may be the largest source not just of electricity but of all energy. On current trends, the all-in cost of the electricity they produce promises to be less than half as expensive as the cheapest available today. This will not stop climate change, but could slow it a lot faster. Much of the world—including Africa, where 600m people still cannot light their homes—will begin to feel energy-rich. That feeling will be a new and transformational one for humankind.

To grasp that this is not some environmentalist fever dream, consider solar economics. As the cumulative production of a manufactured good increases, costs go down. As costs go down, demand goes up. As demand goes up, production increases—and costs go down further. This cannot go on for ever; production, demand or both always become constrained. In earlier energy transitions—from wood to coal, coal to oil or oil to gas—the efficiency of extraction grew, but it was eventually offset by the cost of finding ever more fuel.

As our essay this week explains, solar power faces no such constraint. The resources needed to produce solar cells and plant them on solar farms are silicon-rich sand, sunny places and human ingenuity, all three of which are abundant. Making cells also takes energy, but solar power is fast making that abundant, too. As for demand, it is both huge and elastic—if you make electricity cheaper, people will find uses for it. The result is that, in contrast to earlier energy sources, solar power has routinely become cheaper and will continue to do so.

Other constraints do exist. Given people’s proclivity for living outside daylight hours, solar power needs to be complemented with storage and supplemented by other technologies. Heavy industry and aviation and freight have been hard to electrify. Fortunately, these problems may be solved as batteries and fuels created by electrolysis gradually become cheaper...

The aim should be for the virtuous circle of solar-power production to turn as fast as possible. That is because it offers the prize of cheaper energy. The benefits start with a boost to productivity. Anything that people use energy for today will cost less—and that includes pretty much everything. Then come the things cheap energy will make possible. People who could never afford to will start lighting their houses or driving a car. Cheap energy can purify water, and even desalinate it. It can drive the hungry machinery of artificial intelligence. It can make billions of homes and offices more bearable in summers that will, for decades to come, be getting hotter.

But it is the things that nobody has yet thought of that will be most consequential. In its radical abundance, cheaper energy will free the imagination, setting tiny Ferris wheels of the mind spinning with excitement and new possibilities.

This week marks the summer solstice in the northern hemisphere. The Sun rising to its highest point in the sky will in decades to come shine down on a world where nobody need go without the blessings of electricity and where the access to energy invigorates all those it touches."

-via The Economist, June 20, 2024

[moonchild9350]

Here for You

summary: minho is your rock in this turbulent thing we call life.

pairing: bf!Minho x gn!reader

genre: hurt, angst, comfort

wc: 1.3k

warnings: none other than it's a tough day for reader

notes: just a comfort fic that was needed.

please do not copy, translate, edit, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2025)

general masterlist

The door slams and you let out a breath as you drop your bags on the floor. You toss your keys on the side table and kick off your shoes as three little furry friends rush to greet you.

They rub against your legs and purr, happy that you’re home, their soft fur comforting. The tv is blasting in the living room and your boyfriend’s laughter rings out, high and shrill.

The noise hurts your ears and you let out a huff, as you already have a headache after the day you’ve just had. You drag your feet to the kitchen, the cats hot on your tail, probably thinking they’re going to get a treat.

“Hey baby,” Minho says, not even bothering to turn around to look at you.

You mumble an explicative under your breath as you stare at the stove. The stove that is empty, where food should be cooking or waiting. The dishes are piled high in the sink, neither one of you making an effort to clean them after getting lost in your week.

Heat rises to your face and you take a few deep breathes to calm yourself, not wanting to let your irritation from your long day get to you. Instead you leave the room and make your way to the living room where Minho is lounging, his feet propped up on the coffee table and arms behind his head.

That anger that you pushed down bubbles up again at his comfort, at his nonchalance in helping out around the house while you were at work. You find yourself balling up your fist at your side and looking at him before huffing, “glad to see you had a great day.”

You say it with venom, hoping he’ll get the hint, but instead he smiles and starts chatting about his day and the things he did.

“I did baby! Jisung came over and we watched a few episodes of that new anime we started the other day and…”

On and on he yapped, gushing about how great a day he had. You glared at Minho and saw red as the anger became worse with each passing moment. You could feel yourself slowly shutting down, your brain starting to become foggy, your fingertips tingling.

Your heart raced and beads of sweat formed across your brow. Sooni wrapped himself around your legs, purring and looking up at you expectantly and meowed. Looking down, you took in the furry cat and focusing on how his soft fur felt on your legs, you let out a breath, slightly letting off some steam that had been steadily and dangerously building.

“I’m gonna feed the cats,” you mumbled and left to go back to the kitchen, Minho pausing mid sentence as he watched you shuffle out of the room.

He realizes you have that look about you, the one that you try to hide and lock away deep inside. Minho swallows thickly and debates whether he should follow you, but decides not to as too much attention when you feel like this can backfire. He settles back in the couch and turns his attention to the tv, but keeps the volume on low so he can listen for you.

Once in the kitchen, you begin the routine of preparing Sooni, Tooni, and Dori’s dinner, grabbing three cans of cat food and the special spoon reserved just for them. The little ones mewl pitifully, pacing back and forth as if they are starving and haven’t been fed in ages. Dori bumps his head against your leg and lets out a merp as if he’s saying hurry up.

You grab the supplements that are added to the food, setting them down next to the cans of cat food. Lastly, you reach up in the cabinet to grab the first cat bowl, eyeing the little fish that line the edges.

Your fingers reach out, your movements slowed and your hands trembling. They make contact with the ceramic and grasp the lip of the bowl and you tug it down. However, in transit your grip loosens and the bowl falls, bouncing off the counter and falling to the floor to shatter into a hundred pieces.

The cats scatter at the sound, running into the corner of the room to hide, their beady eyes searching for the source of the sound. You stand frozen in place, your body shaking, your breath coming out in hurried pants. You stare at the mess, eyeing the pieces of glass that litter the floor around your feet.

You feel something wet drip down your face, one at first and then multiple, leaving wet patterns on your cheeks. You don’t hear Minho who as rushed to the scene at the sound of the bowl breaking.

You barely notice as he quickly disposes of the glass shards. You don’t hear his voice that’s coaxing out your name, softly, gently, trying to pull you back.

It’s too much. It’s too much.

Three little words that run through your mind, over and over as you focus on the floor. Minho’s hands grasp yours and gently leads you to the couch where he pulls you down, cradling your trembling body to his side. He pulls a blanket around you, the fuzzy one that you like that makes you feel like you are in a cocoon.

He holds you to his chest tightly, resting his cheek on top of your head, a frown on his face. He needs to ground you, to bring you back to him and he pulls you even closer.

Sitting in silence, he lets you cry, lets you whimper and clutch at his hoodie. He feels the tears soaking the fabric, feels the overwhelming sorrow that plagues your body after the tough day you’ve had.

Time passes and with that your breathing calms, the tears slowing down until they completely stop and your face dries. You continue to clutch onto your boyfriend’s hoodie, breathing in the scent of him, a mixture of citrus and just... him. It comforts you, calms you, brings you back to the here and now.

Once you feel more steady, you break the silence, your voice slightly shaky. “I’m sorry. It’s one of those days…I just…just snapped.”

Minho hums acknowledging your statement. “I’m sorry too baby. I should have helped out more today.”

You attempted to shake your head. It’s not his fault, not at all. You both are busy and work crazy hours, both of you tired and barely functioning after a long day. It’s just dishes, just dinner, not the end of the world. But after the day you’ve had and the thoughts creeping up, you felt overstimulated, exhausted, irritated.

And you took it out on the one person who is always there for you. Who loves you unconditionally.

“No, Min. You did nothing wrong.” You whisper and nuzzle your head deeper into his chest.

You both sit in silence some more until Minho begins to pepper soft kisses on your head. His gentleness brings you to tears again, thankful for such an amazing boyfriend.

“I love you y/n and I will be here for you no matter what, no matter how bad it gets. You mean everything to me. Okay? You're amazing and tough and I just fall in love with you more when I see you bounce back, not letting anything keep you down.”

You lean back to stare at Minho, observe the love that is seated deep in his eyes as he cradles your cheek gently, wiping away the tears that continue to fall.

“Really?" you pause for a moment and then say "okay." You attempt to smile, letting out a little huff in the process.

Minho smiles back and pecks his lips against yours. “Now how about we order take out…but only after feeding these gremlins,” he says with a frown as Sooni, Tooni, and Dori let out their fury at a delayed dinner.

You let out a giggle and try to get up. “I think that’s a great idea.”

You truly do love this little family you both have created and the comfort it brings to your life.

divider by @strangergraphics

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee @hwanghyunjinismybae @channiesrightasscheek @skzdreamer13 @lezleeferguson-120

[lyn31]

Hello there, can I request a moment when Zayne and MC are trying to have a child? Like, Zayne would suggest the best time to be intimate, and he will tell MC her body is now producing some hormones, until they finally did it!! I just feel Zayne must know a lot about this stuff, he makes MC and him eat bean sprouts (since it's good for fertility) etc!

Omg yes! I can totally see it! 😂 Him nerding out is my fav! So please enjoy this cute husband of ours ahahahaha Let me know what you think! 💕

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

Try for Baby

Summary

When your meticulous husband meets the emotional weight of trying for a baby, love and logic intertwine in a quietly beautiful way.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Fluff, try for baby, husband being cute af, banter, silly, Zayne is such a nerd love him!

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

It’s quiet in the kitchen, just the gentle hiss of the kettle and the occasional creak of the wooden floor beneath your socks. Zayne’s at the counter, sleeves rolled past his elbows as he slices strawberries for breakfast. His hair’s still damp from the shower, like the steam couldn’t bear to leave him.

You watch him in silence for a moment, arms folded over your chest. You’ve been thinking about this for weeks now—months, maybe. You just didn’t want to rush it. But the anniversary passed, and the thought lingered heavier than ever. And today, looking at him like this—calm, focused, so incredibly Zayne—you just know.

“I’m ready,” you say softly.

He pauses. Knife mid-slice, one hand still braced on the cutting board. His head tilts just slightly, like he’s making sure he heard right. “Ready?” he repeats, turning to face you.

“For the baby,” you clarify, heart fluttering a little at the words. “If… if you are too.”

The knife hits the board with a quiet thunk as he sets it down, carefully. He doesn’t move for a breath or two—just looks at you like you said something impossible. Then his expression softens into something stunned and warm. “Are you sure?” he asks, voice low. “We still have time. There’s no need to—”

You smile, stepping closer until your hands can press lightly to his chest. “I know,” you say. “But we planned for it to be two years and now it's been two years." You pause, reaching to cup his cheeks.

"I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I wanted to be sure. And now I am. I’m ready—for this. For us.”

Zayne exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months. His arms come around you in one smooth motion, and he presses a quiet kiss into your hair. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Then we’ll do it right. Carefully.”

You laugh. “Carefully?”

“You know what I mean,” he says, dry as ever. “I’ve already been looking into recommended supplements. For both of us.”

Of course he has.

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

Two days later, you find him in the living room with a medical journal balanced on one knee and a bowl of food on his lap. He’s reading with that same quiet intensity he reserves for patient files—like the words might disappear if he blinks.

You glance at the bowl.

“Are those bean sprouts?” you ask, standing behind the couch.

“Yes,” he says without looking up.

“Plain?”

He nods. “Steamed. No oil.”

You raise a brow. “Zayne.”

"They’re high in zinc and vitamin C,” he says, sounding like he’s reading a textbook. “Both are linked to improved sperm quality. Also antioxidants. It’s a simple intervention.”

You walk around to sit beside him, blinking at the bowl. “You’re seriously eating bean sprouts for—?”

He looks at you, completely composed. “If we’re trying, I’d rather be… efficient.”

You stare.

“I also started taking coenzyme Q10 yesterday,” he adds, like it’s just casual conversation. “And I cut out caffeine.”

You blink again. “You just had coffee two days ago.”

“That was before I finalized the projected timeline for your cycle.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “You made a timeline?”

He pulls out his phone, opens an app, and shows you a perfectly color-coded calendar. “According to the last three months of data—”

“Data?” you interrupt, mouth twitching.

“—your most fertile window starts next Friday. I scheduled a lighter week for myself. Just in case.”

You’re half in awe, half horrified, and entirely in love. “So you're telling me our baby-making schedule is color-coded?”

“Efficiently.”

“And this is the man I married,” you murmur, shaking your head.

“I also bookmarked a few articles on recommended sleep posture and—” He pauses as you drop your face into your hands, laughing. “What?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You say that now, but you'll appreciate the planning later.”

You peek at him through your fingers, voice warm. “I already appreciate you.”

He sets the bowl down, eyes softer now as he leans in. “I just want to do this right,” he says. “For you. For us.”

You kiss him, light and smiling. “You already are.”

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

You don’t usually get nervous before having sex with your husband. But tonight has a weight to it. Not in a heavy way—more like a sense of something beginning. You catch yourself fluffing the pillows more than necessary and adjusting the dimmer switch on the bedside lamp three times before you stop yourself.

Zayne notices, of course. He always does. He’s just walked out of the bathroom, towel draped over his shoulders, hair damp, and eyes scanning you like he’s trying to gently calibrate how you’re feeling without asking outright.

“You know,” he says casually, dropping the towel onto a chair, “this isn’t a medical procedure.”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “Says the man who scheduled this evening like a minor surgery.”

His lips twitch. “A well-timed event deserves the proper preparation.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you also sterilize the bed?”

“No. But I did wash the sheets.”

You stare.

“They were due,” he adds mildly.

Laughter slips out before you can stop it, loosening the knot of nerves in your chest. He crosses the room to you, slipping his arms around your waist from behind, his cheek brushing against your temple. His skin is cool from the shower, his touch familiar and grounding.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs.

You nod. “I just... want to get it right too.”

“There’s no ‘right,’” he says gently. “There’s just us. And tonight. That’s enough.”

You lean into him, exhaling slowly. “Even if it doesn’t happen right away?”

“We’ll keep trying. No matter how many bean sprouts I have to eat.”

You snort. “You didn’t even season them.”

“I was being noble.”

“Mm. You looked mildly tortured.”

“I was mildly tortured.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping your hands around his wrists as you meet his gaze. “You’re taking this so seriously.”

“Of course I am,” he says, his voice low. “This is our future. Our child. I’ve never wanted anything more.” He hesitates, as if realizing just how much this means to him. "You... mean everything to me."

Your breath hitches. The words land deeper than you expect—like they anchor something in you. Something you didn’t even realize needed to be held.

This is my husband. And God help me—I want to have his children.

Your lips curve. “Okay, you know what,” you say, lightening your tone with a playful smirk, “let’s make this fun.”

Then you push him back onto the bed with no warning, laughing at the surprised sound he makes as he hits the mattress. You swing a leg over him and straddle his waist without hesitation.

His hands instinctively come to rest on your hips, and he looks up at you, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I see.”

“You did say we’d keep trying,” you murmur, leaning down until your nose brushes his, “so let’s try lots.”

That earns a quiet chuckle from him—low, breathy, indulgent.

You kiss him before he can respond. Soft, unhurried, familiar. But there’s something new in it too—a shared anticipation, a bit of mischief. He kisses you back like he already knows he’ll lose track of time tonight.

And honestly? Neither of you mind.

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

A few days later, you’re lying on the couch with a warm compress over your stomach when Zayne appears beside you holding his phone and a folded piece of paper.

He sits at the edge of the couch. “Would you like to see a rough calendar of the next two months?”

“…Why?”

“To help us schedule accordingly.”

“You're still on about scheduling our sex?”

He looks up from the paper. “Lovemaking.”

You narrow your eyes. “Zayne.”

“It’s not strange to optimize time. You have appointments in your calendar. This is just another kind of appointment.”

You sit up, exasperated and amused. “That is the least romantic thing you have ever said to me.”

He slides the paper toward you. “I added stars for your fertile days.”

You stare at it. He did. Color-coded, even.

“I’ll allow it,” you say eventually. “But only if you stop calling it an appointment and start calling it a mission.”

He pauses. Then nods. “Mission accepted.”

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

Three days later, you find him standing in the kitchen with a mug in hand, staring thoughtfully at the fridge. You’re not sure why—it’s just the weekly meal plan and a crooked magnet shaped like a cat. But you know that look.

That’s the I’ve been thinking too much and pretending I haven’t look.

You wander over and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. “What’s going on in that brain?”

He hums. “Just recalculating.”

“For what, exactly?”

“Our window.”

You pause, cheek against his back. “Zayne.”

“Hm?”

“It's been just over a week.”

“Technically,” he says, in that careful tone he uses when he’s about to weaponize facts, “most studies show it’s optimal to try every two to three days during the fertile period.”

You peek around him, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re saying we’re due for another ‘session’?”

His lips twitch over the rim of his mug. “It would be advisable.”

You snort. “And what would you do if I said I was tired?”

“I’d let you rest,” he says instantly, without hesitation.

“…But you’d look very disappointed.”

“Quietly.”

“You’d suffer nobly.”

“Tragically.”

You laugh, stepping around him to steal a sip from his mug—he lets you, of course. “Okay, fine. Tragic martyr husband deserves another try.”

He sets the mug aside, like that was all the permission he needed.

You’re already walking away, tossing a look over your shoulder. “But no graphs this time.”

“No promises,” he murmurs, following you down the hall with calm, completely not-rushed steps.

You still catch the faint smile he tries to hide.

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

Another night, you find him flipping through a research article on male fertility, blue light from his tablet casting faint shadows across his face. He doesn’t even try to hide it when you walk in—just gestures to the bed.

You cross the room, climbing onto the bed beside him. “You know,” you murmur, leaning into his side, “some people find the spontaneity part of this whole process... exciting.”

He glances down at you. “You mean to tell me my schedule charts doesn’t excite you?”

You laugh, muffling it against his chest. “God help me, it kind of does.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, setting the tablet aside. “Then we’re a perfect match.”

You let him pull you closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

Trying doesn’t feel clinical with him. Even with all the planning, the bean sprouts, the careful counting of days—it still feels like falling in love again, just with a shared goal this time. A quiet promise stitched between soft laughter and tangled limbs.

And when the next “optimal window” arrives, Zayne doesn’t make a fuss. He just finds you in the kitchen one evening, gently takes your hand, and murmurs, “Come to bed.”

You smile, knowing exactly what he means—not just the act, but what it carries now.

The door clicks shut behind you, and all the lists and charts fade away.

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

You’ve felt… different, but not enough to say anything out loud. Yet he watches you like he already knows. Like he’s just waiting for you to confirm what he suspects.

You lie in bed, wrapped around him as he absentmindedly strokes your hair. Your cheek’s pressed to his chest, and you can hear the slow, steady beat of his heart.

“Do you think we’ll know right away?” you whisper.

He hums. “Possibly. The basal temperature changes. And your mood has been subtly different.”

You lift your head. “Are you saying I’ve been moody?”

“I’m saying you cried over an orange yesterday because it was ‘too perfectly round.’”

“…Okay, that’s fair.”

His lips twitch. “You’ve also been sleeping more. Appetite changes. You mentioned soreness.”

You sigh. “You’re such a doctor.”

He brushes a kiss to your forehead. “I’m your husband.”

And you don’t say it, but those two things—your doctor and your husband—are the most comforting pair of hands you could ever be in.

And whatever happens next, you know you’ll face it together.

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

Notes

Argh god, what a cute req and what a cute couple 😩 Where is my future husband at?

You're reading the Pregnancy series! You're at Part 0

Part 0

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 (Smut at the end)

If you're confuse how we got here How it all happen is the start of the Newlyweds series!

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: Parenthood AU Masterlist ✨

[sugar-on-fries]

MY TWISTED DANDY AND ICHOR 'LORE' IS FINALLY HERE ^^

DISCLAIMER, i wrote this in the middle of night at 3am over like 3 days and i refuse to proof-read twice so i apologize for any grammar mistakes and if this makes zero sense.

Also this is literary 1900 words long of me yapping about ichor and dandy so y'know.

Ok so uhhh first. What IS Ichor? I'm not quite what it would be classified in-game and in my as BUT i can tell you how it works in my headcanons! Now, idk how the hell Arthur and Delilah could make an organism with the Ichor in the first place, but in my AU/headcanons the Ichor is basically a compound that can make something live and grow, and with it in your DNA it would be giving you most of the that your body would have whole systems for! I would go on about how ichor would make the Toons live and how they were made, But i'm not a damn scientist and i'm here to tell you what happens when you have too much Ichor in your system. But let's talk about the story for a second, we always have to start somewhere!

LETHAL || MAINS In mid 1986, Dandy was made by Arthur and Delilah for whatever reason, (don't ask me why that's not my department) After MANY failed attempts- Dandy was the first to actually breathe, live, and learn! But unfortunately, his DNA, his tissues, and whole body had WAY to much Ichor, at-least for a Toon, you could say it was a LETHAL amount but in generally his genetic structure was unstable. Delilah had originally declared Dandy a failure to Arthur and even if he would survive as for now and there was no doubt there was going to be consequences sooner-or-later, good or bad, and wanted to euthanize him, but Arthur opted out stating that 'He was already alive for almost 2 weeks now and he was already showing signs of learning his environment as well as attempting to communicate to the both of them, it'd be cruel.' also Delilah is dumbass and didn't tell Arthur that dandy could crashout and mutate due to the side effects of the ichor and him having so much in his system (we'll get to that) so yeah <3 Sometime after Dandy, in late 1987 the five mains we're made with what they learned with dandy, but bc they were still MORONS; Delilah and Arthur (mostly arthur's fault bc i said so) STILL made them with too much ichor, just with slightly less from what dandy has in his body, and since there was now SIX of these brats walking around here, Delilah and Arthur became permanent colleagues! and something something blah blah (i hate writing stories if u cant tell) - in 1989 they made the other toons and collaborated with a museum, and eventually got a tv show for the Toons to promote the museum.

ICHOR EFFECTS The Ichor has the ability to create life but that doesn't mean it can't kill it off too, in my lore the ichor is basically steroids on steroids. Its a weird ass supplement with the ability to make some organisms grow physically and mentally.

Imma get right into what I have made up so far, too much Ichor in your system can go right to brain, literary. The Ichor target's the brain, primarily the pituitary gland, the amygdala and, the frontal cortex. The Pituitary gland is mostly responsible for growth, specifically, it produces growth hormones which in toll promotes growth in bones, muscles, and other tissues, and the Ichor sends signals to the gland causing unwanted growth in the toon's body - now twisteds.

Now, the amygdala and the frontal cortex can (and will in this case) cause aggressive behavior with the amygdala playing a key role in recognizing and responding to threats, and the frontal cortex helping to regulate impulses and make decisions, but since the Ichor is now here - the brain is now getting signals consonantly to be aggressive due to the Ichor. also Ichor is kindaaa toxic to humans without the proper wear to handle it. hope this makes even a lick of sense <333 (also if ur wondering: "since the ichor makes them aggressive why aren't the toons aggressive???" they got media training or smth like that)

TWISTED DANDY Now that we know what the Ichor does to the brain mainly in my lore, now i wanna talk about my glorious king, dandy BUT FIRST lets talk about the mains real-quick. Like i said, the mains have more Ichor than the regular toons. this is my reason why the mains are larger than the regular toons and in my AU/Headcanons, more aggressive. and logically since they would grow WAY more than normal twisted, they would be in CONSTANT AGONY, always full of fear and anger. Now think about when it comes to Dandy, but multiply it by 6 /j I would talk about his in-game twisted form but guess what? this is about MY dandy and MY Ichor lore so idc about him rn, also lets talk about the story for once more! In-game there is a document by Arthur to Delilah about an incident that most likely got Gardenview shut down and it goes along the lines of this: "Delilah, we need to talk. I know you've kept reassuring me that what had happened wasn’t due to anything you had done. Yet I feel as if we still need to talk about this, you had to have known this could happen to him. You had to have known that this was even a possibility. If you did, why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me? Something like this doesn’t just happen."

Now, this COULD be about ANYONE but imma make it about dandy because I can and for lore reasons. (<- praying that this doesn't poorly age) In my AU-thingy, in this part Dandy didn't FULLY transform into the twisted form i have for him, he transformed into something that was more like his 'canon' twisted form (i dont feel like drawing it use ur imagination /silly) , but overall less aggressive and painful than his 'full' form he was still aggregated and in discomfort generally, fumbling around in pain - trailing Ichor everywhere, labeling the rooms Dandy entered as 'unsafe' and 'a health-hazard' (plus he was lowkey terrorizing kids in this state) and since he trailed so much Ichor that it was in the air EVERYWHERE, the building had to close and eventually got abandoned overtime.

Now back to present! In my designs, dandy is more centaur lookin' with him rocking two sets of arms and two sets of 'legs'! Pictures down below if u don't know what he looks like! Now his 'Front legs' were going to be his arms like in his canon form but he ended up still having his top half and his body turned them into legs. Now fully transformed (but terribly) and now his whole body is even more fucked than it would be if he only transformed halfway, Dandy is now in AGONY <333 !!! When turning into Twisted Dandy, his spine grows rapidly including his muscles, tissues, and literary everything. He would also have bones quickly forming and Ichor rapidly hardening to make his front legs, as-well as everything i just said. same with his tail and everything below the belt, normally in nature this probably wouldn't hurt due to them evolving really slowly BUT even in-game it seems Dandy is doing this within minutes! And even if he was doing this slower than maybe 3 minutes he would still have to transform rather fast, and also in-game we can say that the toons are probably REALLY SHORT probably being the size of 2 to 4 feet tall (i'm being generous with the height rn) and 'canon' twisted dandy standing seems to be really tall too, and being like 3 feet tall and turning into something that's maybe about 12-15 feet tall when standing within minutes, THATS OBVIOUSLY GONNA HURT LIKE HELL.

Plus he would be changing his whole bone and muscle structure- once again IN MINUTES, and that's not even close to everything twisted dandy would have to tolerate. Still in my lore, the Ichor would target his brain which in toll would make his own brain to start yelling at him to become aggressive and sending singles though his body telling it to 'GROW AS FAST AS YOU CAN' but bc i can ,it doesn't numb any of the pain and keeps forcing his body to change and grow as he suffers though it. ALSO my twisted dandy is VERY HOT. Temperature wise. Since he's like idk 3 feet tall its not hard to assume that he would most likely have a fast metabolism, and since he's turning into a giant beast, i would imagine his body regulate his metabolism into a slower one. Basically something like a hare (fast metabolism) can generate heat very fast but can't grasp onto heat as well, but something like an Elephant (Slow Metabolism) is not going to be able to generate heat as fast but can hold onto heat better, And since Gardenview is most likely underground and you most likely are going down, its probably gonna be somewhat warm/hot in the building, and since the museum is shut down I doubt the ventilation is on/working. So my Twisted dandy would be generally hot due to his body changing his metabolism and him not being using to his body holding onto heat for long-periods of times (this is also why I draw him without a shirt fyi)

Also I like to draw him smiling through his tears bc I like to think he believes that smiling can help reduce the thought of pain through the release of endorphins and other neurotransmitters, (personally I don't buy it) and he's crying for obvious reasons. Now Dandy would also go though the most pain due to one little fact ^^ He never gets the chance to get used to the pain. Since the other twisteds aren't switching back to their "normal form's" they had time to get used to pain and the changes to their body, BUT GUESS WHO HASN'TTT- Even though others twisted had the same happen to them (Via, limbs forming rapidly, spines growing, bones and shi acting up) Dandy deals with these changes over and over and over again, not having a chance to adapt to these changes for even a second.

Aghhhh this is getting way too long for my standards and imma end it here, feel free to ask me anything and thank you 4 reading!!!

Also if you want to know why the ichor targets the brain and why it does what it does. that's not my department!! i'm here to yap about the effects of ichor and shi bc theres literary NOTHING on it. Any story plotholes that i refuse to fix or give intel on can be interpreted however u want idgaf <3 ALSO don't take any science facts in here at face-value, i am a stupid child that is not equipped in science in anyway, if you want to learn more about anything REAL in this, please do your own research i am simply using google and my little knowledge in science.

ALSO ALSO ALSO i was originally going to include drawings into this to show what i was talking about but then i didn't end up doing it bc im lazy, but here are the doodles i did make for it ^^

[f4unlette]

𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑖𝑝𝑠

꒰ some of my personal tips and some other things that i’d like to try. will be adding more to the list soon ♡ ꒱

𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑒:

⌗ brewer's yeast and zinc supplements for healthy hair, skin and nails

⌗ magnesium and sea moss supplements for fatigue, anxiety, stress, muscle and sleep regulation, migraines and blood sugar and pressure regulation

⌗ psyllium husk for constipation/ibs

⌗ vitamin c supplements for boosting collagen production, regulating boood pressure and boosting immunity

⌗ tiger balm for sore muscles, stomach aches and headaches

𝑑𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑚:

⌗ magnesium and psyllium husk supplements to promote smoother bowel movements

⌗ yoga and stretching, as well as debloating exercises

⌗ renew life’s 3 day detox/body cleansing pills for a total body reset

⌗ stool softeners over laxatives

⌗ 2l of water daily/minimum and avoiding carbonated drinks

⌗ focusing on consuming fiber rich foods rather than protein

𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠:

⌗ chamomile, fenugreek and mallow tea for acne and inflammation

⌗ green tea after every meal to avoid bloating

⌗ cardamom or clove and cinnamon stick tea for body cleansing and avoiding foul body odor

⌗ lemon ginger shots to promote gut cleansing

⌗ lemon, strawberry and cucumber water for clearer skin

⌗ daily detox smoothies

⌗ jujube tea for glowy skin and period cramp relief — from uraveragemillenial on tiktok

⌗ pear, rock sugar and moss drink — from crystaldao111 on tiktok

𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒:

⌗ turmeric soap for dark spots and exfoliation

⌗ pink vaseline as a lip sleeping mask

⌗ vitamin c oil for scars and wrinkles

⌗ rose water as toner

⌗ la roche posay cicaplast baume b5+ for and tattoo care, acne scars, pimples and other skin inflammations

⌗ panoxyl for skin texture

⌗ tretinoin and gua sha for smile lines

⌗ facial lymphatic drainage for face puffiness

⌗ eating black seed oil to clear up acne

⌗ qasil powder for acne

⌗ moroccan beauty secrets — from zawinamorocco on tiktok

𝘩𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒:

⌗ amla hair oil for rapid hair growth

⌗ nettle shampoo mixed with a few drops of rosemary essential oil for oily roots and hair growth

⌗ tsubaki royal jelly and camelia oil conditioner and hair mask for soft hair

⌗ jojoba oil heat protectant cream for hair mids and ends before blow drying

⌗ argan oil for healthy and shiny hair ends

⌗ going to sleep the day before hair washing day in a loose braid after applying argan oil throughout hair mids and ends and with a silk bonnet on

⌗ trimming spit ends at home with a good pair of scissors

⌗ avoiding tight hair ties and opting for silk scrunchies

⌗ heatless curls > hair curlers

⌗ direct hair dye > box dye

note: i have type 1a (straight, thin and low porosity) hair, so these listed products may not be adequate for many people

𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒:

⌗ dove original soap and turkish exfoliating bath glove for soft skin

⌗ whipped shea butter with coconut oil for soft skin and hydrated cuticles

⌗ the ordinary glycolic acid for hyperpigmented underarms, elbow and knee ditches and oily hair roots

⌗ roll on deodorant followed by spray deodorant

⌗ johnson’s baby powder as dusting powder to lock in moisture from moisturizing cream

⌗ cuticle trimming every week, as well as nail filing and nail polish application using pink transparent nail polish (don’t forget toenails)

⌗ soaking hand nails in olive oil for 10 minutes to avoid them from peeling and breaking whilst promoting cuticle hydration

⌗ hand exercises for slimmer fingers

⌗ cleaning behind ears and piercing holes with saline solution every day

⌗ foot care by trimming toenails, scraping dead skin off, moisturizing feet and applying tea tree oil in case of fungi

⌗ couto toothpaste (pasta dentrífica), teeth flossing, tongue scraping and mint mouthwash with no alcohol for good dental and oral hygiene

𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑚𝑒:

⌗ brown mascara > black mascara

⌗ lightly applying vaseline on eyelashes and also using it as eyebrow gel

⌗ rubbing vaseline on skin before applying perfume to make it last longer

⌗ spraying body mist on clothes

⌗ fresh fruity perfume: spring and summer. woody, aromatic and deep gourmand: autumn and winter

⌗ caravan, éclat and equivalenza perfume and body mists are great and affordable dupes for expensive fragrances

⌗ perfume oil on wrists and neck

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠:

⌗ pilates exercises from nikola’s pilates, shirlyn kim, move with nicole, lilly sabri, pamela reif

⌗ rosie graham’s 30 day challenge

⌗ k-pop workouts, especially kazuha’s workout from lesserafim

⌗ just dance

⌗ walking and jogging

⌗ jump rope

⌗ bicycling

⌗ badminton and handball

[heliosail]

Get the game for free! Patreon Itchio Gumroad GameJolt

Heliosail is Finally Here

Words cannot possibly capture how I am feeling today. I am joyous, overwhelmed, proud, humbled, and terrified all at once. This game is, in many ways, a very personal reflection of my heart and soul. I could have released it years ago, when it was "playable" for the first time, but I held back. I knew that it had not yet bloomed into the rose that I could see within it. 

This game has changed me in a profound way over the years I've devoted to it. When I started this process, I was in my mid twenties, severely depressed, being entirely supported by my father, and completely unable to see a future for myself. Since that time, I have moved halfway across the country, put my depression in full remission, come out as nonbinary, changed my name, written a novel, and now fully support myself. I am unrecognizable from my younger self. I used to be unable to make new friends, and now I have a whole group of people I met and bonded with over TTRPGs. I used to have screaming, crying meltdowns over my math homework well into high school. Now, I understand mathematics, statistics and probabilities with ease, and know that I am AuDHD. I used to be constantly anxious that if I ever did the wrong thing, no matter how slight, I would be rejected by the people in my life. Now, I can sit down at a work meeting and accept discipline without crying (Sometimes.) I used to not have the energy to do more than two things in a week. Now, I am running out of days in my calendar for everything I want to do. 

I cannot credit all of this change to one project, of course, but this game really has been a guiding force through this chapter of my life. I've been in a sort of dance with it, where I began to create answers to my anxieties, and in turn, Heliosail gave me resolve and hope. I was worried about climate change, so I imagined a future where we go back and fix our mistakes. I felt like I didn't fit in, so I created a fantasy where I could run away on a ship and be queer with all my friends. I was anxious about surviving in this capitalist world, so I imagined a society that tries to take care of everyone in it.

I fell into a comfortable pattern, where I could experience the joy of puzzle-solving that is the design process, and literally build the world that I wanted for myself.

And so, the truth is that, while I am excited and proud beyond words to finally let the world see my work, I am kind of mourning too. There will be more Heliosail to work on; I am already planning more content for the game, and will continue to try to spread it to those who will enjoy it most. But that is not the same. To achieve my dream for this work, I will need to develop a whole new set of skills. I feel rather like Sisyphus, having just reached the top of the hill only to realize that somehow I'm at the bottom once again. No matter how daunting I find the road ahead, though, I believe that Heilosail is worth it. Maybe it makes me sound conceited and self-important, but the truth is that I feel a drive and responsibility to make this project a success, as if it is for something greater than myself. It's like I'm pushing this boulder, not up a hill forever, but towards someone who badly needs it. I don't know who they are, but I am driven to reach them as if both our lives depend on it. 

More Content Coming Soon

More files will be coming in the near future, added to the download for Heliosail everywhere you can find it. I will be adding a "Home-Printer Friendly" version of the handbook very soon, which will be black and white with no images, and will be reformatted to use the fewest number of pages possible. I will also be releasing a free adventure to provide you all with some content for your games. Adventures I publish after this will be paid supplements, but I will continue to publish "Monster Mondays" and other free content on Patreon. 

[aipurjopa]

im chasing a ghost

[transformation4life]

Peak Musclenity

Josh was your average skinny american blonde. Average grades and average life. There was nothing remarkable about this guy... besides maybe one thing.

Josh was gay. Very very gay and was trying to get big like the men he admires over the internet waves. And against all odds he managed to make a friend at the gym! A czech bodybuilder named Alois. Unlike Josh, Alois was as straight as can be and understanding gay people was the least of his problems, but Josh was failing at using a workout machine so bad it led to the two to meeting and becoming workout buddies.

Josh was never one to give up and despite his currently lacking frame he continued to workout even after weeks of no results. Alois noticed this and was starting to get worried Josh's body just wasn't able to get big like his. Alois wanted to do something so do something he did and it was going to be drastic...

"Hey Alois! My man, my big burly man! How's it going?" Josh ran up to Alois mid-flexing routine.

"Oh hey kid, what's up?" Alois replied back.

"Nothing much! Just excited to work out with you!" Josh smiled.

"Great, great...." Alois frowned.

"Is... something wrong?"

"Be honest with me Josh, I've noticed you haven't been gaining muscle for weeks now and you keep that damn smile like nothing's wrong. Your lack of muscle has to be bothering you!" Alois put his hand on Josh's shoulder

"I'm just concerned for ya-" Josh politely removed Alois's hand.

"Don't worry about me! I've noticed this myself actually... and I don't mind at all! I'm just glad to be doing with you!" Josh smiled again.

Alois looked down to his pockets. Alois knew that he had to do this. He needed to give Josh what he DESERVES.

"Look Josh, you deserve to get big like me so I got this supplement for you." Alois grabs a bottle from one of his shorts pockets.

"Don't worry. It ain't no steroid. Just lather it on your face and the effect should spread to your body." Alois put the bottle in Josh's right hand.

"Please, for me." Alois said sweetly.

Alois's deep voice was always something Josh adored so despite his reluctance to accept the gift he did keep it.

"Alright then... uh... are we going to work out now or-"

"Nah. Let's go to your apartment. Just us two."

"Oh! Ohohohohohohoh!" Josh started to blush a beet red.

"A-Alright let's go then!!" Josh quickly turned around as Josh led the way to his apartment.

After a 30 minute drive for both of the men they both arrived at Josh's apartment. Josh unlocked the door with his keys and put his arms towards the apartment living room as if to showcase it.

"Here it is!!! It's not great, but it works!" Josh said with confidence.

Just looking at the place tightened Alois's resolve to go through with his plan.

"Yes... very. Say Josh, how about you apply that supplement now?" Alois gestured to the bottle in his pocket

"Hm? Why now? We're not even at the gym plus I don't think we're gonna be at the gym again until-"

"Just apply it for me please." Alois interrupted Josh again.

Josh was getting really confused at this point, but if the bulging man is asking you to do something you might as well. At least that was Josh's reasoning. So Josh unsealed the lid to the bottle and removed the foil covering the liquid inside and dipped his fingers in and out of the bottle before applying it to his face all over. The substance was a bit thick and a very dark black and it made Josh's skin crawl, but somehow Josh could feel the liquid seeping into his skin leave his face clean again.

"Woah... that was weird! Hopefully it actually works..." Josh looked at Alois for some affirmation only for Alois to be deep in thought.

"Alois? you good?" Alois jumped at the mention of his name.

"Yes, yes! I'm fine!!"

"Okay then, so now that we're at my apartment do you want to do anything?" Josh asked a bit nervous.

"Oh, sure! Though there's something I've been meaning to ask you, Josh,"

"Yeah?" Josh gave a really curious look this time.

Alois opened his mouth only to pause for a second... only for Alois to shake his head before speaking again.

"Josh, when did you have such a beautiful manly beard?" Alois knew there was no going back from this.

"A m-manly what?!?" Alois implying Josh had a beard certainly wasn't something that Josh was expecting.

"Yeah, that beard of yours is thick like mine. a real item," As Alois spoke little by little hairs began to grow on Josh's clean shaven face.

The growing didn't stop for a long while and before long a beard that looks to have been growing for years was now on Josh. Unexpectedly though the facial hair was a deep black and Josh's blonde hair was now black to match the beard. A quick pain went through Josh's head before Josh's confusion turned into confidence.

"Oh thanks, I did always pride myself on not ever shaving it! Doesn't really fit my frame but my genetics blessed me!" Josh smiled as he caressed his beard.

"Of course! Can't forget that almost shaved head of yours too!" Alois continued his trek across Josh's body.

"What are you talking about Alois? I love my curly locks!" Alois stopped messing with his beard and grabbed his hair to show Alois that he did have the locks he said he did.

"No need to lie to yourself, Josh. That shaved hair is a good look with your beard!" And just like Alois planned Josh's hair began to fall off and melt into the floor like it wasn't even there until there was barely any hair on Josh's head.

Josh was still grabbing his hair but his mind caught up with the new reality and smiled again.

"Silly me! You're right! I love the kind of masculine look it gives me! Still no muscle though haha..." Alois knew that last comment wouldn't last long.

"That masculine look really suits you, Josh. Especially with those big muscles and tattoo of yours," Now Alois was the one to smirk.

This absolutely flabbergasted Josh. There's no way Alois was telling the truth. Wasn't it just an hour ago Alois was worried about his muscle gain. Josh was a stick!

"Alois I appreciate your compliment but it's simply untrue... I'm a twig and I definitely have no tattoos. I hate tattoos!!"

"That was what you thought years ago, but look at you now! Gruff and tough and just as old as me!" This was the big one and Alois was ecstatic to see Josh's frail body begin to grow.

Before the growth could start, all of Josh's clothes evaporated off his body. The growth now began in Josh's chest as he developed two large pecs that were dying to be popped. Next was Josh's stomach as it became a strong gut and slight hint of abs being there. Josh's back expanded like a large map meanwhile his stick arms were sticks no more as they were now more like tree trunks and his hands grew into sausage like fingers with very rough texture after years of lifting weights. Josh's legs weren't far behind in growing until they were two thick rocks of pure muscle. Josh's flat ass ballooned up into the perfect bubble butt and his feet grew a couple sizes too. Josh's face was next up to bat when it began to physically age and become much more gruff and masculine. Josh's neck thickened as his adam's apple became more prominent. Josh already looked like a completely different person at this point and Josh was none the wiser, but the show still wasn't done. Out of nowhere ink began to surface on Josh's skin with various patterns running all over his arms, back, fingers, pecs, and chest. The most unique one being one that was just "5%" etched on his left pec. While this was happening Josh's dick became quite the well endowed one with a generous 9 inch schlong. The final change wasn't too major with Josh's body being flourished with body hair all over his now huge frame. Josh didn't speak through the whole ordeal, but with a quick change of Josh's memories he just smiled.

"Yeah... you're right. I am BIG and I am a true man!!" Josh flexed his bulging arms and with a shiny gleam a ring appeared on his ring finger.

Alois was quick to notice the accent and deep voice Josh now had. Alois supposed the "just like me" comment changed his birthplace. He also noticed Josh's face being more like his own as well. Alois couldn't believe the black liquid worked. That purchase from the black market was worth all the money he spent. Alois just wasn't sure what to do now-

"Hey Alois, do you see this ring on my ring finger? I don't remember putting this on... Did you pull a prank on me? Pretend we're married? Haha!" Ah right, Josh was still as gay as ever.

Alois thought for a moment. Should a gruff and tough guy like the new Josh be gay? Alois was straight as an arrow and didn't feel like he had the right to change Josh's sexuality.

But... imagining Josh in his current state as gay didn't seem right to Alois. This Josh belongs with marrying a woman! Atleast that's what Alois reasoned. So Alois readied his response and spoke.

"Oh come on, Josh you know full that-"

"Wait we're actually married? I thought you were straight," It was time for Josh to do a little bit of rearranging.

A wedding ring appeared on Alois's ring finger and memories were injected into both men. Memories of meeting way earlier than they actually did. Memories of falling in love through the power of bodybuilding. Memories of their wedding as they kissed under the altar. It wasn't before long after the memories of their lived changed as they passionately kissed right in Josh's apartment which slowly changed into their joint home.

"Babe, у тебя скоро фотосессия..." (Babe, you have that photoshoot soon…) Alois spoke after the kiss ended.

"I know... I have to take a shower.." Josh spoke back.

Josh was still naked and wasted no time hopping in the shower. Josh turned on the showerhead and hopped in letting the cold water lay waste on his large muscular body. Alois while watching his beloved get in the shower realized they were no clean towels in there oh no! Alois quickly grabbed one and rushed to the shower.

"You forgot a towel!" Alois slammed the door open right as Josh finished his shower. Guess it was a quick one.

"Thanks babe, but I can get my own damn towel next time alright" Josh grabbed the towel and started to dry himself.

Before he continued drying himself off he flexed to his husband just to make sure he knows that he loves his man. Josh even did a little pout with his lip!

After Josh finished drying, Alois handed his husband the clothes for the photo shoot later today. Josh quickly put on one of the American flag branded shorts and underwear then went straight to grooming his beard for the shoot.

"Удачи в фотосессии. Я тебя люблю!" (Good luck with the photo shoot. I love you!) Alois said to Josh as he started to leave.

"Тоже тебя люблю!" (Love you too!) Josh left his house completely different than when he entered it moments ago.

Josh became the man of his dreams and Alois was along for the ride as his husband. Josh's photo shoot showed off the new Josh in a glorious way.

First picture by the pool...

Second picture with a cat...

Third picture lifting some mad iron...

And the final picture by the local beach...

As the shoot finished Josh couldn't help but flex in triumph. This was the life! a huge husband, a huge him, and a promoter for products! Josh was a true man. Always has been and always will be with a muscular husband by his side.

[peachmangofuzz]

7 minutes in heaven - shohei ohtani au

summary: Y/N snoops around famous football player Shohei Ohtani’s locker in search for a scandal against his clean record but ends up in one herself.

tropes: friends with benefits, friends to lovers(?)

tw: *slight* smut, mentions of sex, oral (f receiving)

word count: 30,033K words (i'm SO sorry in advance holy shit)

hi! it's been a while. when i made this account, i vowed to write at least once a week but it had been so difficult this month juggling work, my chronic migraines, and seasonal depression (lol).

please note i did not proofread this so plsssss i apologize for grammar mistakes and inconsistencies!!

posting this on the last day of 2023, hoping to give everyone a good read before we welcome the new year. so thankful for this small space to try, linger and reset all over again. hope you had a very merry holidays with your loved ones.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

==================================

Locker Lockdown

At around thirty minutes past four in the afternoon, I skimmed the clubhouse for any signs of life. It was only the quiet that prevailed. Clear. 

I tiptoed my way towards the player locker room. I only had around ten minutes to locate the correct locker and take whatever I could find. Discovering the locker area to be empty and unguarded, I felt a surge of excitement. 

Six years later, I couldn’t get my big break and decided sports journalism could catapult me into somewhere big in the industry. This is my last chance to prove myself, otherwise I’d have to reconsider going back home and write Hallmark greeting card messages again. 

Shohei Ohtani’s jersey number is the number 17. Lucky bastard, after all these years and even after going through free agency, he got to keep his famous number, even at the cost of having their senior player give it up for him when he joined the football team. 

And here you might be wondering why I’m doing this aside from my sheer desperation to get an official spot in the workplace and not eat scraps of topics editors discarded for themselves. 

Some people are privileged to a fault.

And I hate seeing him on TV. Or on social media. Or his Colgate-white smile plastered all over my favorite beer and skincare brands. 

Some would say this is the TMZ tabloid level of writing. I say this is investigative journalism. Find out if the famous favorite son-in-law has any flaws of his own and wrap around a bowtie of hidden horrors of sports documentaries. 

And where else can we find this but in the athlete hotpot: their locker room.

I found Shohei’s locker right away as it was the tidiest locker among all on display, with nothing but brand-sponsored clothing hung neatly on the rack. He also donned the top shelf with some dog-eared self-help titles and vitamin bottles. While the rest of the athletes have pictures of their girlfriends, wives and their kids, Shohei has an unreleased polaroid selfie with his dog, Dekopin, just right beside his perfume bottles. Dekopin was looking away, captured in mid-yawn, with his ears raised, and Shohei, smiling into the camera with pursed lips and a snapback on.

I got so immersed into reading the ingredients of his vitamin bottles, trying to find anything remotely related to steroids, or any form of illegal bodily enhancements, that I didn’t notice footsteps from outside the hall.

“What are you doing here?” a voice loomed behind me and I dropped the diet supplement bottle in panic.

Only the sound of the bottle rattling could be heard as I locked eyes with Shohei Ohtani, tall and all muscular. His hair was sweaty and unkempt and his eyes held mild anger and confusion. After the bottle stopped rolling and settled somewhere on the floor between us, there was only silence and the cold sweat building up at my back. 

I swallowed hard. I planned everything from studying the stadium’s entrance and exit doors but I didn’t plan on bumping into him. Not like this. Not when I’m at the lowest level of the social hierarchy right now. 

I could only be ashamed. 

Brain still befuddled at the thought of getting caught, I urged my limbs and picked up the vitamin bottle and returned it back to Shohei’s locker. The plan was not to respond at all and run as fast as I could before the rest of his team arrived. That was the only way to keep whatever dignity I have left. 

“I said, what are you doing here?” He caught my arm mid-exit and pulled me back, tightening his grip. 

“Let go of me.” I struggled to keep my balance and the way my voice wavered was no help at all. 

Shohei saw the camera slung over my shoulder and looked back at me, realization hitting him.

“Y/N, are you a sports journalist now? And were you looking through my stuff?” he said, sounding almost disappointed. 

“That’s none of your business. Let go of me.” I kept my voice steady but his grip only tightened. The sides of my eyes slowly formed tears. 

“What tabloid media do you work for? I should report you. Would you like that? What a shame you’ll be banned from all the games now, right? You nasty journalists just won’t keep your noses away from my business.” he took my camera and deleted all the photos I took of the contents of his locker. I tried to leap for it but he was obviously inches taller than I was and I was no match for that.

“I don’t write tabloid news. If I was, my name would have been all over TV by now.” I grabbed the camera from him and sighed morosely at the lost media. A day’s work is all lost.

“My boss gave me a green light to do a documentary about the team. And the star player.” I wiggled my fingers in front of him, as if to emphasize the word “star” in front of him.

“I came here assuming you and the other players would be here for an interview but no one was around yet. So I hung around a bit and took interest in your nutritional supplements.” Lie after lie after lie. I gritted my teeth and faked a smile. The most convincing lie I’ve learned on almost all my failed dates and relationships was to stroke a man’s ego and have him talk about all the things he is interested in, making him divert his attention to something else. 

“You’ve got really good, um, vitamins for muscle recovery there. Maybe that’s why you got so big and strong, right?.” He looked at me dubiously, nodding responsively to be polite. If he took the bait, then he is obviously just like any other guy I’ve ever met. 

“I mean, I guess? I’ve been doing deadlifts so–”

Approaching footsteps and faint voices were heard from the hall. Shohei pushed me toward the opposite end of the hall, where the showers were located. 

“Wha–” I started but was shut up when he pushed me further into the back of the shower room, swiping the doors closed. 

“Shut up if you don’t want to be caught.” He growled and I recoiled back into the tiled corner. On top of me was the almost rusting shower head who had seen better days, and two bottle pumps for shampoo and body wash. 

Voices and conversations were starting to fill in the locker room that was empty only a few seconds ago. The voices of men echoed through the shower rooms.  You could hear the sound of water turning on from neighboring shower stalls, laughter and tired conversation in the locker area. We were surrounded.

Shohei could be heard laughing with his mates while blocking the door to the shower room I was hiding in. 

“Are you using that, Sho? I could use a hot shower right now.” one of his teammates said. 

“Uh, no, I was just about to use this room, sorry.” he said, almost hesitating. After a few seconds, he entered the shower room and started undressing. 

I widened my eyes and shot him daggers. When he unhooked his shirt from his armholes, I was rendered speechless. 

He had the body sculpted by the gods with his wide shoulders and large pecs that glinted under the light. How could someone look handsome and beautiful at the same time? 

So when Shohei reached for the waist belt of his pants down, I didn’t know why I had choked on a silent scream. I looked away, embarrassed to have reacted like an inexperienced teenager. I have seen and have been with naked men before. This should be nothing new to me and my level. Or so I thought.

I stole a glance at Shohei, who was slowly walking towards me (or to the showerhead, where I stood under, obviously)  in only his boxers on, gazing at me in wild amusement.

We were almost inches apart from each other, foreheads almost touching, breaths almost converging, if you may. If I stand on my tiptoes, I would be almost at his eye-level and I could peck him on the lips if I wanted to. 

If I wanted to.

“Sorry, but I need to shower or someone else will try to take this stall.” His voice broke my salacious thoughts. He looked at me and turned the shower on.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m supposed to. Aren’t I? I just got off practice and I stink.” He said almost sarcastically.

“So I’m supposed to just watch you bathe and hope I get out here alive?” Water slowly dripped into my shirt, soaking my chest and exposing a bit of my underwear. 

“If you didn’t sneak in here, we wouldn’t have this problem.” He concluded and pursed his lips, not looking at me. 

“Shohei? You okay? You sound like you’re talking to someone.” a familiar voice floated into the shower room.

“It was a video on my phone that I forgot to pause, Ippei-san.” Shohei’s face turned red but recovered quickly, glaring at me. 

“Oh, well then, I thought you finally had a girl in there. I was wrong.” Ippei laughed.

Shohei started lathering body wash on his body at the slowest pace possible. His hands glided through his chest, stomach, and into the dick he’s restraining inside his boxers. Simply having this view had me almost whimpering. If it had been another day, I would have obviously enjoyed this, having a sexy man bathe in front of me, because who wouldn’t? But under my circumstances, I’m only fairly annoyed at being a flustered, hot mess and I couldn’t do anything about it. 

“Oh, fuck, now you got me wet.” I blurted a little loudly as the water splashed and got into my socks. 

Shohei’s widened and panicked eyes shot at me.

In between those short seconds, Shohei was able to respond quicker than my brain could. He had faked a laugh and said loudly, “Well, that’s awkward, the video keeps on playing on its own. Let me turn my phone off instead.” gaining laughter from outside the shower area and then reaching for the small of my neck and closed whatever space was seen between us. 

Based on what I had learned in self-defense training, my initial bodily reaction should have been this: If someone is coming at you from the front, a groin kick may deliver enough force to paralyze your attacker, making your escape possible. 1. Stabilize yourself as best you can. 2. Lift your dominant leg off the ground and begin to drive your knee upward. 3. Extend your dominant leg, drive hips forward, slightly lean back, and kick forcefully, making contact between your lower shin or ball of your foot and the attacker’s groin area.

Instead, when his lips touched mine, I felt my arms throw around his neck and pulled him closer. They say we’re all beggars for something, and this indulgence I had let myself be greedy for. 

When his lips reached mine, I parted like the Red Sea almost immediately, welcoming him and everything that he could offer: the taste of his tongue on my mouth, the smell of honey orange and apricot from his body wash seeping through my nose as I peppered kisses on his chest, and his obviously hard dick grinding against my stomach. When I palmed him, he managed a low growl and caught my wrists.

“Not here.” he groaned.

I pushed my head back inquiringly, both of us breathing too hard. 

“I have no condom,” he tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear. Under the dim bathroom light, I could see his face and chest were flushed. “Next time?”

“Well, usually when two old friends meet after a fall out in college, they just catch up and have coffee.” I said.

He laughed and said quietly, “Okay, so I owe you.”

“The coffee or the protected sex?” 

“Uh, it could go a lot of ways.” Before he could say more, I palmed him through his boxer shorts and looked up at him, trying to find his limit.

Shohei bit his own lip and tugged the roots of my hair in a bundle, pulling and tugging from the pleasure. To keep himself from making such ungodly hot sounds, he pushed his tongue down my throat and thrusted his hips back and forth against my hand.

As if to make it even, he unclasped my bra and sucked on my already soaked breasts, a satisfied groan slipped from me. We both pulled and pushed and sucked and kissed each other in the crevices the shower splatters couldn’t reach, silencing the moans before it could escape us.  

In that brief and elating moment, while we muted the noise from unsuspecting people, we smothered each other’s groans and reached our highs in the quietest, most pleasurable way possible. 

=========================================

7 minutes of heaven

It’s strange how I always find myself in the most ridiculous situations. 

The next few occasions that I’d meet Shohei would be wordless and timed interactions in enclosed spaces. We’d see each other in public and pretend we didn’t know each other but slip each other notes of the next place we’d secretly meet. It all felt strangely exhilarating to keep a secret like a fifteen year old would, with all the sneaking and running. 

We’ve explored almost every nook and cranny of the stadium, discovering hidden spots of our rendezvous. We’d meet up in a different bathroom and he’d push me on my back while he fucks me repeatedly on the bathroom sink. Pre-game preps meant I gave him blowjobs in his manager’s office hours and hours before everyone even arrived. 

Of course, when we ran out of places to hide, we’d go as far as looking for the next empty parking lot and tried to fuck each other noiselessly.

“So when can I take you out for dinner?” he had asked one day, when he dragged me out to meet with him around after midnight. I wouldn’t let him inside my apartment and I refused to do the deed in his either, so he’d bring me to places that only us knew, to fuck, to kiss, sometimes to talk, but more often, to drive each other’s pleasure and only that. 

Because god forbid we both catch feelings and lose the fun, right?

So no talking, no sharing of personal details, no anything. 

We were in an empty parking lot, away from the lampposts and streetlights. Shohei had made sure that we were well hidden in the dark. 

He had his legs spread while sitting on the driver’s seat. His hands, warm and wide, rested on my hips and thighs, lightly urging me to ride him slowly.

Soft RNB music played on the stereo, it was a quiet, still night. It was both our day off so he had wanted us to chill and take the sex slowly.

Slow meant gazing at each other’s eyes–gaze, not look–with endearment or adoration, not lust or pleasure. Slow meant thinking the unthinkable thoughts. Slow meant being vulnerable while coming undone.

And I don’t want the slow and quiet moments. I wanted the fast and rough with no time to talk, gaze or even think, just one hundred percent fun and debauchery. 

“Mmm. Maybe when you show me your photos,” I avoided the question but I also knew Shohei would never show me the photos he had taken–past and present. Even when we had been buddies for an entire semester, he had, not once, shown me his portfolio. 

“So probably never, right?” he gazed up at me with his creamy brown eyes, hands caressing my stomach lightly. 

“Probably,” I muttered and with that he had gripped my thighs tightly and moved his hips upwards to meet me. I moaned when he hit me in the right spots. Any sign of softness he had shown a few moments ago was gone, and only the roughness and unsettling disconnection remained. 

This particularly fine day, I would be standing at the mercy of his mouth. He had dragged me to an empty storage room in the east wing of the stadium, hours after practice. According to him, the area stands the exact opposite from the lockers so most people hardly come by. How he had found out about this, I had no idea. 

He was kneeling in between me, my right leg hooked on his shoulder, giving him more access and my hands tugged at the strands of his hair every time he licked my sensitive clit. 

Shohei’s tongue grazing against me had left me quivering in delight. He stands up and kisses me, giving me a taste. My fingers started unbuckling his belt when he felt his phone vibrate. 

“Oops, Ippei’s looking for me.” He pockets his phone, looking forlorn, as if telling me he didn’t really want to go yet. “See you again next time?”

“Yours or mine?” I had asked, brushing up and straightening my wrinkled dress. And when I realized what I had done, Shohei’s eyes shot up and he beamed widely. 

“I just– I- I want a proper night with sex, you know.” I explained, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s so uncomfortable having to go commando at work after you had just literally sucked the life out of my vagina, Sho.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He smiled even more.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“What? Fuck off.” By this time, my face felt hot and had probably looked red like a tomato, which probably amused Shohei even more. 

“Your place, then. I’ll call you.” he gives me one last kiss then heads out first, leaving me a dazed and pulsating mess.

A shrill sound knocked me awake. It felt like seven thousand screaming hungry babies in my ear, bouncing off around my brain like a pinball. 

I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table and saw the time glinting behind the glass: 8:41 PM. I must've fallen asleep after taking a half day off from work, feeling nauseous and slightly feverish. It seemed that whatever body malaise that I have been carrying inside me earlier had sprung into a full-blown ailment.

 I pushed my body up and walked groggily to the source of my misery. 

Someone was buzzing the doorbell and repeatedly pounding on the door. Great.

“If you’re not dead or dying behind this door, you’re about to be.” I croaked harshly, throat burning; putting all my remaining energy in pulling the door open. I was greeted by an extremely tall man with frantic brown eyes, searching my face.

“Oh, thank fucking god. I’ve been knocking for half an hour.” he wrapped me in a tight hug, I almost collapsed. Partly because of the throbbing headache and overall discomfort that I already felt, but hugely because of the warm minty scent of Shohei Ohtani. 

“Jesus, you’re burning up!”

“What are you doing here?” I said, struggling in his grip, his face resting on the curve of my neck. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You don’t text someone ‘at least i’ll die happy today knowing that my last meal was shoyu ramen’ and then not fucking reply after.” We were still standing by the entrance, his face now angled towards me, a look of concern or anger mixed in his face, I couldn’t tell. My cerebral cortex functions seemed to have shut down after witnessing this unexpected tenderness. 

“Medicine knocked me down cold.” I shrugged weakly. 

Shohei pulled me into the bedroom and tucked me back in, apologizing for his intrusion, putting down plastic bags of what seemed to be groceries on the kitchen counter, and went back to lightly scolding me for proper texting etiquette to family and friends, to anyone really. That my dark humor doesn’t translate well in messages and that I could have really died and people would think I’m joking but really, he got so scared that he went here as fast as he could.

I don’t remember much but in between fever dreams and my ibuprofen haze, I faintly remember the savory taste of rice porridge exploding in my mouth, the constant dabbing of a cold towel on my face, neck and chest, sometimes, my back, too; the smell of rubbing alcohol and a large, gentle, almost loving touch. 

I don’t remember much but in between waking up in the darkness and stone-cold silence, I remember soft forehead kisses until I drifted back to sleep; of big strong arms enclosing me into a big embrace, as if to tell me, you can put your guard down now. you are safe here. 

I don’t remember much from coming in and out of slumber, but I remember thinking: wouldn’t it be nice if this wasn’t a dream?

======================================

Reset

In the end, I quit sports media on my own volition and got into a friend’s ceramics house. I have always had a thing for ceramics and sculpting as early as college, where I had met my then-professor and now friend–who happens to be the owner of mentioned ceramics house. She had always praised me and encouraged me to join her when she first opened the shop, but as someone who had musings for writing at the time, I politely declined and pursued, you guessed it, journalism. 

I’ve always been good at writing, no doubt, from the way professors always had a good word for me, but I always seem to get into the wrong places every time. Time moves fast if you’re a journo, if you’re slow, then the news is rehashed news, it would just be a late-night recap at a midnight slot that no one is ever awake to watch. 

Here, inside her shop, it was quiet, and time moved slowly. I can get into my laziest clothes and no one bats an eye. I can finally retire my stilettos and straight cut blazers. 

It was all so going well. The customers were always mid-twenties who got interested in our social media marketing of creating your own mugs and other ceramics and always came in in groups, duos, and solos. 

Slowly, I realized that not everyone gets to the places they want. Even when you work blood and sweat for it. Not all were built like, say, Shohei Ohtani, whose talent was recognized early and afforded him an automatic slot in the big leagues.

Some are born to be big icons and some, like the rest of us, are meant for smaller, softer spaces. I get that now. It finally felt like I was in the right place and pace. 

All this positivity and good timing felt all too good to be true and been proven accurate when the scandal blew up. 

Shohei Ohtani photographed exiting his LA apartment with a woman in his arms.

Shohei Ohtani’s rumored girlfriend receives backlash from fans: READ MORE

EXCLUSIVE: More photographs of Shohei Ohtani and rumored girlfriend driving away in his Porsche

Rumored girlfriend of Shohei Ohtani: Who is She?

When I say it was everywhere, I meant it exploded right in front of our faces like a million confetti, falling and twirling fast. It was unstoppable. It was inevitable.

I felt my limbs go numb when I read the morning news. There in bold and black letters was the headline, my name and a clear photo of me holding Shohei’s arm, smiling. A certain news outlet had gotten juice of us and our secret hideouts and had spread all over social media like wildfire. You know what’s funnier? The media outlet that released this was my previous employer. The same company that asked me to snuff out a controversy. While I had failed to give them the news they wanted, I had unintentionally brought them an exclusive that wrote my entire name–and face–off the map and potentially ruined Shohei Ohtani’s clean record. 

Shohei Ohtani, despite his happy-go-lucky and passive demeanor, was a very serious and straight-laced person. I already knew this in university but I got to see more of this side of him when we had started the fucking thing. Even though I had clearly told him that I didn’t want any strings attached, it was unavoidable to give and receive bits and pieces of each other when we’re not naked. 

I  did enjoy talking to Shohei under the sheets. His ingenious ideas and the way he talked about the things he adored spilled all over him, like afternoon sunlight streaming in between curtains, making way even through the small spaces to cast his light. I basked into this warmth as much time allowed me, because who knows when I can experience the glow of his presence again after all the chaos. 

He was exactly like the golden hour: a warm afternoon orange luminescence that usually only stays for ten to fifteen minutes a day. If you wait too long to look up, he disappears quickly as he goes, leaving only the faint orange, yellow and pink hues chasing after him before the black of the night takes over you. 

Well, now the fairytale has run its course and the sun has set to announce that golden hour is over. Night has finally fallen on me and I’m feeling scared and alone.

The first thing I did was to grab as much stuff as I could and put them all in my luggage and filed for an indefinite leave. 

As if like clockwork, my phone rang and saw Shohei’s name on the caller ID. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. What could I possibly say to him? That I used him just for the clicks and the views? That after all this time we spent together, he would realize that I am still the same despicable, scathing piece of garbage who’d trample on anyone just for a few cents?

So I don’t answer. Even when he calls back again and again and leaves me twenty or more messages by the hour. I turned my phone off. The latest message from Ohtani coming up on the notifications bar read, “Where are you?” before the screen flashed to black. 

I have nothing but my pride left. I’d like to keep it that way.  In such a way, I was embarrassed, too. I thought I finally had something to brag about. A job that I actually liked and enjoyed, a peaceful mind, and the possibility of liking a guy who had shown me nothing but kindness. 

And because I couldn’t handle all of this, I handled it like I have always handled things: I ran away like a coward. 

I rode a bus without reading its destination card and let it drive me away as far as it could, to someplace where no one knew me or Shohei Ohtani, or had any idea about the news. 

The bus drove away and I never looked back. 

================================

Waiting Until My Spring Comes Again: Shohei’s POV

Just like that I lost her. She wasn’t even mine to begin with. 

When the news broke out, I was so furious that I wanted to drive to the news outlet that published the article and give them a piece of my mind. I knew my blind rage would have done more damage so I didn’t.

Instead, I looked for her and wanted to let her know that whatever happens, I won’t drop her just like that. That I’m willing to acknowledge the rumors and make it official, if she wanted to. 

I’ve always been open to the idea of taking it to the next level with her but every time I broached the subject, she would change the topic, get into a foul mood, or try to pick a fight with me. Which I found endearing. She’s so adorable when she pouts. And when she pushes her luck thinking a five foot four girl like her can withstand someone as tall as me. 

I just can’t help but laugh and feel a flutter in my stomach. She’s someone who has been adorable and held a special corner in my heart. 

Y/N’s face was so expressive and whatever emotion she was in it would always be evident on her face. When she’s happy, a dimple on her cheek shows up. When she’s feeling sad or down, she’d look downcast and would prefer that you leave her alone. When she’s thinking about something deep, she would chew on her lower lip and always had a blank almost unfocused stare. Despite her many faces, I’m sure as hell that I love all of them. I wanted to be by her side when all this shit happened, I wanted to see which face she was making. Is she pissed like I was? Is she sad? I wouldn’t know. The moment her number didn’t connect after I had tried reaching her, I already knew that she was avoiding me. 

I lost count of how many messages I had sent her, of how many missed calls and voicemails I left her. She was unreachable. She gave me her spare key so when I tried visiting her apartment, it was empty. 

She was gone. 

And only the traces of her lingered in her apartment. Her unwashed mug with leftover stale coffee was on the kitchen counter, specks of lipstick staining the mouth. Dirty clothes hanging on her bathroom door, forgotten and unwashed. The peachy scent of her purifier that always latches on to her clothes whenever we go out. Her unread books on her coffee table, some dog eared and annotated. 

Everything that I love about her is here except for her and I miss her. 

For the next couple of days, I dodged the media and focused on training, playing and practicing. Those three over and over again. I tried to not think about her and lose sleep because of her. An athlete’s wellbeing is connected to quality sleep. 

But she was everywhere I went. Pieces of her were scattered all over the places I avoided, and it was my fault really, for bringing her to places we usually hid. For hoping that someday, the secrets we hid would be our stories to tell. Now I just let her memories rot inside my heart, where she should be. 

I thought it would be easier when you just let it slip by but the more days that passed without seeing her, the more I feel a gnawing pain in my heart. She had sucked all my sunlight and took it all away with her. 

I want her back. 

=====================================

My Answer is You

Eleven days. It took me nine days to realize running away was a bad idea. 

When I first got off the bus, I thought the place looked familiar. Turns out, I rode the bus to my hometown, to the very south and the last bus stop until it turned around to go back to the city. 

When I appeared in front of my mom–the first time in a long time–she had immediately said, “Did something in the city?”

The moment she asked, I broke down in tears. She shushed and consoled me while I cried like a little kid. Like the way I had bawled to her when my first boyfriend broke up with me, or when my love birds died from illness, the other from loneliness. 

It feels like I would die of loneliness, Mom. I had said.

Did he really say that? Did he tell you that it’s over? She cooed.

I was embarrassed to admit to my mom that no, Shohei had never told me anything because I had shut him out even before I could give him the chance. But what if that call was already the end of it all? What if answering his call meant exactly what I had thought. That would shatter me more. 

So, no, Mom, you can call your daughter a coward but in her heart, it’s all over. 

The next forty-eight hours at home was a blur. After feeding me with what feels like a day’s worth of homemade dishes, she made me wash the dishes, clean my old room, and the living room as well. And when that wasn’t enough, she made me go with her to the night market and bought whatever seafood she could find to feed me. 

Is this what you did when Dad left? I wanted to ask her. Did you go around acting as normal while nursing a wounded heart? Did you go all through that facade just to show me that you were strong for the both of us?

She had her back to me, her hands pale and creased with age, showing signs of passage of time and her hardwork to put me to school. I know she was trying to make me busy to keep my mind off of Shohei. I’m not sure if she fully understands the scandal but she was trying her best to keep my head above the water. Probably just like how she always did. 

I wish I was strong like you, Mom. 

On the fourth and fifth day, she had let me work under the sun harvesting corn. Which I absolutely despised. I had to wear sun hats and these jumpers to cover myself from the heat. 

“It’s cheap labor for letting you stay and eat my food,” she said when I complained. “Tomorrow, you’ll help me sell these at the market.”

As the days grew idly by, I’ve grown more accustomed to rising early and eating less meat and more vegetables. I willingly went out of the sun more to do housework, like hanging clothes, watering Mom’s plants, however, I was still not willing to harvest her vegetables, which she made me do a lot. When I say a lot, it means everyday since then. 

On the eleventh morning, I woke up earlier than usual and found my mom already awake. She busied herself with a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning, mom.” I yawned, grabbing my own mug. 

“After breakfast, pack your things and go back to the city.” She said quietly.

“Huh?” I’m not sure I heard her right. Is she kicking me out?

She pushed today’s newspaper into my hands and pointed at an article. An article shows a picture of Shohei smiling at the camera, behind him was a framed candid photo of me turning my head just in time when the camera clicked, I was wearing a sleeveless shirt, a shawl draped over my shoulders, and the wind blowing my hair and covering my face slightly. Just by looking at the photo, it looked like a time when Shohei and I drove to the beach. He had brought his camera and took a lot of photos. 

The article said, “Portfolio on Love: Shohei Ohtani’s Photographs Displayed for A Cause.”

“....and when the powerhouse athlete gets a day off, he plays around his camera and takes photos of anything, everywhere. He reveals Insider Today that for the first time ever, he is displaying his portfolio to the public at the Grand City Museum starting today until the 31st of the month, with the theme of “hello, love, are you there?”

“...’I don’t know how else to define love but this. I hope when the public sees this, they will instantly know that my photographs are a reflection of my love,’ he said.

“When asked if this was a confirmation to the rumors flying around recently, he just smiled sadly and said, "I'm hoping that this answers everyone’s questions, especially hers.”

“If your face is plastered on all of the newspapers, it wouldn’t make sense to stay here longer.” Mom said after a while. She had finished her breakfast and took them away to the sink.

“It doesn’t end well if you’re too afraid, my darling.” she said, not looking at me. “To love and to be hurt is to be brave. If it doesn’t work out after facing him, then by all means. Come home. My doors are always open for you. And I will feed you rice cakes while you harvest my corn.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She wasn’t a hugger but welcomed my hug and patted me on the shoulders. “Now go, before all the chismosas wake up and corners you.”

I packed my bags and left home, my heart pieced back together. It was not wrong to go home and seek shelter. What I did wrong was leaving Shohei all alone when he took most of the fall. 

Five hours, one taxi ride, and a ten minute walk later, I arrived at the city museum, nervous, anxious, feeling a little lightheaded and hesitant. I wiped my sweaty palms and got inside. 

It was not as packed as I had expected, probably because it was a little over after lunch, though there was still a relatively big crowd overall. 

When I stepped into the hall featuring Shohei’s displays, I felt a surge of emotion. It was a collection of all the photographs of his loved ones. In a black and white collection, he had photographed his parents holding hands while walking in the snow, a photo of his dog sleeping idly on his couch, a photo of the football stadium in a wide angle shot, showing Ippei and the rest of his teammates playing a warm up game before practice. 

When I turned to a corner, that’s when I saw it. There were multiple frames hanging intricately on one side, showing all of the photos he took of me. One during university days, where I was showing him a strangely large eggplant during our photo walks at the market. There was another with me looking at him angrily for reasons I couldn’t remember, and a more recent one, in the middle, where he was holding my hand while I walked forward, back facing the camera. 

On the metal plate below were words that read in cursive: “2009–present. Moments of love that I hold dear.”

At that moment, tears had started rolling down my cheek and I couldn’t help but sob. The onlookers nearby started moving away, probably weirded out by the sudden burst of emotion over some piece of art.

They weren’t just pieces of art. These were moments when Shohei and I were together and maybe realized that it was love.

By then, someone on my left offered a handkerchief and I gingerly took it, wiping my tears-strewn face. I muttered an apology for ruining the fabric.

“This is not the first time someone cried in front of my photographs. Some were absolutely heartbroken after seeing them.” a man’s voice said. And that reeled me back as I turned around and saw Shohei standing in front me.

“I knew this would lure you back,” he said, smiling.

His face was a little gaunt and tired. He had dark circles around his eyes that I’ve never seen before. I could only look at him and he looked back. I had so many things I wanted to say to him, so many things I wanted to explain but he spoke first and said:

“Did you get a tan?” he started, raising an eyebrow.

“I-I was harvesting corn!” I said, covering my face with both hands. I didn’t even have the time to put on makeup or a swab of lipstick and that’s the first thing he notices.

He took my hands and held them tightly against his chest. “No one looks this beautiful even after harvesting corn.”

“Shut up,” I said looking away.

He tipped my chin and held my face. “Let’s start again, shall we?” 

I raised an eyebrow in question.

“Hi, my name is Shohei Ohtani. I’m an athlete and an amateur photographer sometimes. I’ve been in love with the girl in the photographs since forever.”

I managed a smile and laced my hands around his neck. “Hi, I’m a ceramics maker and sometimes, a farmer, you should see the corn I harvest. You look so familiar. I think you look like my future boyfriend.”

His eyes perked up and laughed at our silly little game. He went in for a kiss and I obliged, feeling safe and brave in his arms.

Let them take the damn photographs and write the articles all they want, but they could never take my sunshine away ever again. 

[trishxtrix]

The Bench Across the Street

AO3

Part 1 | Previous | Part 16 | Next

Summary: What if Abby is hurting and forcing Frank to take benzos to “control” his ADHD?

What if few hours after the argument, Frank is brought to the ED on a brink of an overdose and some unexplainable injuries.

TW: Abuse, Overdose, Suicide Attempt

Tags: Dark!Abby | Frank whump | Frank-centric | Miscommunication | Abusive!Abby | abusive relationships | threats of violence | implied/reference child endangerment | is this considered AU? | spousal abuse | men can be victims of abuse too

———————————————————

Mia

As soon as we stepped into the hallway, Cynthia touched my arm. 

“I’ll speak with Frank first,” she informed me. “Then Abby. Cleanest approach.”

“You’ve seen what she can do. You know how she works.”

“I do,” Cynthia nodded, her voice low but firm. “I won’t underestimate her.”

“Push if you need to,” I said. “She’ll try to redirect, manipulate. She always does.”

“I won’t give her the space.”

I nodded, and Cynthia turned towards the family room. I watch her disappear through the double door.

~~~~~~~

Frank 

I sat alone in the family room. My leg bounced uncontrollably. The room felt smaller. Sterile. It smelt like bleach and recycled air. Every second dragged like it was stretching out to punish me.

 I kept replaying every moment from the past week, wondering when I should’ve noticed Tanner was sick. What I missed. What I let happen.

Cynthia entered. Shut the door behind her and sat across from me, flipping open a legal pad. No judgment in her eyes. Just the kind of steady presence that made the air feel less like it was trying to choke me.

“Frank,” she started, voice gentle. “I know this isn’t easy, but we need to get it all on record. I’ve read Tanner’s intake form. But I need to hear about what is happening to Tanner from you. Whatever you tell me stays within protocol, but I want you to speak freely.”

I nodded, my throat dry.

“Tell me about the past week,” she said. “What have you noticed with Tanner?”

I told her  everything I could think of. The sluggish mornings. The bruises I’d brush off as playground accidents. His aversion to food. The nausea. The nights he fell asleep mid-sentence. I told her about the mornings where I’d try to talk to him and get nothing but a weak nod.

“And the supplements?”

I hesitated. “Abby was always into vitamins and supplements. She said it helped with focus. I never questioned it—maybe I should’ve. I should’ve pushed harder. I didn’t know about any current medications. She never told me about Metaxalone.”

Cynthia jotted that down, her pen moving with deliberate clarity.

“Did you ever see Abby give him anything?”

“Not in the past two weeks, no.” My voice cracked. 

“Did you ever suspect something was wrong?”

“Not like this. I thought maybe school was stressing him. Maybe he was tired. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know about vitamins or Metaxalone.”

“She didn’t tell you anything about Tanner needing supplements or prescriptions?”

“No. She handled all of that herself. She made me feel like I wasn’t involved enough, like questioning it would just make things worse. But I never would have agreed to—” My voice cracked. “I didn’t think she’d—”

“It’s not on you to have imagined the worst, Frank.”

“But I should have. She’d done it to me. I should have seen it.”

“And if you had?”

“I would’ve stopped it.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “I swear to god. I would’ve stopped it.”

Cynthia let the silence hang there, heavy and honest.

“What’s your biggest fear right now?” she ask

“That I failed him,” I answered honestly. “That it’s too late.”

She nodded slowly. “Thank you for being honest.”

“I thought I could keep them safe. Even from her. And I am wrong.” I confessed, barely above a whisper.

“You aren’t wrong,” Cynthia said. “You did what you could, but let’s be honest: did you ever feel like you could stop her?”

“No,” I whispered. “She would’ve twisted it. Told the kids I was trying to hurt them. She’d done it before.”

Cynthia looked at me for a long moment. “This isn’t your fault. We’re going to get you and Tanner the help you guys need.”

“I’ve wanted out,” I admitted, my voice breaking again, “But she’s got this way of making everyone believe it’s me. That I’m unstable. That I’m the dangerous one. Even when I filed the report, part of me still thinks that no one would believe it.”

“I do,” Cynthia said simply.

I looked at her, face full of everything I don’t deserve—grief, guilt, hope.

“What happens now?”

“I file the report. Update Reeva and Morales. I will also push for an emergency custody evaluation. The tox report, even if it’s just a preliminary, helps. So does your statement. So does the documentation you and Mia have been collecting.”

“She’ll fight it.”

“She’ll lose,” Cynthia said confidently.

By the time the interview was over, I felt like I had been scraped and flayed open from the inside.

~~~~~~~

Abby 

Control. 

It’s always about control.

I sat up straight in the plastic chair, legs crossed elegantly. The picture of maternal concern. I kept my hands folded in my lap and my chin slightly lifted. I knew how this worked. 

So I sat with perfect posture, hands folded neatly as I waited for the social worker.

She entered with a professional nod. “Thank you for your patience Mrs. Langdon. My name is Cynthia Dea and I am the ER social worker. This is not an interrogation. We’d just like to get a better understanding of the situation.”

“Of course,” I replied with a gentle nod. “I just want what’s best for Tanner.”

She sat down. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Tanner’s recent health.”

I smiled softly. “He’s been a little off. Some fatigue, some trouble focusing. I thought maybe a growth spurt, or stress.”

“Any supplements or medications?”

“Just B6,” I said. “A natural supplement. It helps with attention. Perfectly safe.”

“And the metaxalone?”

I blinked, slow and precise. “I don’t know where that came from. We don’t keep medications like that in the house.”

I watch her face. Looking for doubt. I saw it. Bareilly a flicker.

“I have to ask,” Cynthia started. “Is it possible someone else administered it?”

“I suppose…Frank’s been distracted lately. Distant. He’s exhausted. Maybe he mixed something up?”

Let it land. Let it stew.

I didn’t lie. I redirected.

Cynthia didn’t react. Just wrote.

“I’ve been trying to keep everything together,” I continued. “Tanner’s been more sensitive lately, and Frank—he’s been emotional. You know about the incident last week, right?”

“You mean the psychiatric hold?” she asked.

“I didn’t want to bring it up. But yes.” I sighed. “I love Frank. I do. But he hasn’t been stable. I’ve been doing everything I can.”

There. Let her chew on that.

I let silence settle, then leaned in just slightly.

“I’m afraid,” I whispered. “Afraid he’s not equipped to parent right now.”

Not a lie.

Not the truth.

Just enough shadow to obscure the shape of the real monster.

I imagined the words taking root. Doubt needs so little solid.

She thinks she’s gathering facts. But every word I offer her is a weapon I’ve already sharpened.

I’d been careful. The smoothies were unmarked. The B6 was over-the-counter. The metaxalone? That had taken effort, but it wasn’t traceable to me. Not directly. Frank’s a mess. I just needed him to look like what I already said he was.

I’d watched him unravel for months. All I had to do was give it a nudge.

And now? He was sitting in a room somewhere blaming himself. Mia would back him, of course. But they’d look too close. Too united. Cynthia would start to wonder who was manipulating who.

Let them.

I stood gracefully when the interview ended.

Let them doubt him.

Let them chase ghosts.

I’ll always be three steps ahead.

[studentbyday]

mid-week update (aka i was feeling like posting an aesthetic post today, regardless of how much i actually get done)

src: wallpapers.com + pinterest

these winter days, i often wake up and don't want to leave the warmth and softness of my bed or a stuffed toy 🧸 but then i tell myself it's not as bad as i think it is... and it usually isn't...

✅ stuff done:

biked ~20 mins

journalled

finished 1 more function for cs50 finance (3/7 done)

rested in bed before lunch bc i was really tired (tryna get used to waking up at 8 😪)

groceries

for some reason, this year i'm really struggling with the long, long nights 🤷🏻‍♀️

📸 media on my mind:

cozy writing vlogs (1 & 2) by christy anne jones (watched while exercising 🙂)

write with me in a beautiful old library (watched up to the 24 min mark while journalling)

tips for surviving (and enjoying) dark winters by cecilia blomdahl (who lives in svalbard where they experience polar night 😬)

⭐ the tips ⭐ - keep a strict sleep schedule (e.g. always get up before 9am) (perhaps try using a wake up light?) - power of mindset: put your happiness into the small things in life (e.g. morning coffee/tea, a good book) - gear up and get outside for fresh air (e.g. go for a walk) - eat well (veggies!) and take necessary supplements (consult a doctor) - make your space one you love, especially if you spend a lot of time at home (e.g. add lights, rearrange furniture to your liking) - exercise (good for physical and mental health!) - work-life balance: make time to do things you love

[awsugar]

my GOD i need to vent for a minute. i got in a car accident on december 4th. it was bad and it had to be towed and i had never been in an accident before and it was 3am and i was having a panic attack and the cops never came cause it's philly so when a man arrived to tow my car i was just like ok! and he basically towed my car and drove me home and told me where to have them send the car for repair when i called insurance the next day he said they would give me a deal. which like my dad and i researched the place, it's a real body shop, reviews are fine, whatever so i have it sent there. and they did tell my dad that they were going to waive my deductible. so great, i don't have to pay for it to be fixed. insurance went out and inspected the car and gave me an estimate that it would be finished december 23rd. and so that date came and went and i was busy with work and i didn't really care but like mid january im like ok whats going on. so i called the body shop and they said oh actually we're about to send a supplement to your insurance because there's more damage than they noticed in the initial estimate. ok. so what have they been doing for the past month and a half? i don't know. and what am i to do about it. so i wait. a week or so later i open my progressive app and it says my car has been totaled. ok. 2 days after that i get a text from progressive saying they went to inspect it AGAIN and decided that the car is worth enough to actually repair. $14k repair by the way. i don't really remember doing that much damage to the car. my airbags didn't even go off. but when i went to get some stuff out of my car shortly after the accident it was FUUUUCKED so i'm like ok i guess it was that bad. but anyway they're going to repair it. so some more time goes by. i got a call from the body shop 2 weeks ago? maybe 3 atp. saying it was going into the paint shop and it would be ready for pickup the next week. and since then i keep calling for an update and it keeps getting pushed back from what they initially say. they keep apologizing and saying they know it's taken too long. and they'll call my when it's ready etc. a week ago it was supposed to be ready by last friday. on friday he said maybe by today. today we called and he said they have to take the whole car apart again because they took it for a test drive and it's making a noise. THREE MONTHS!! i have not had my car for 3 months. i have been paying $700 for insurance and a car payment on a car i haven't even seen in 3 months. and now they're like actually we don't know when it'll be done. i'm like what the fuck. what is going on and why is this happening to me

[aipurjopa]

The empire and atlas should combine….. the empire atlas…… (insane)

[ladyluscinia]

Ok so I was talking to @brigdh in this post about how Lily being a secret affair Zweig baby doesn't really compel me due to reasons BUT I do think rolling around the timeline more has given me an even better idea of how all the pieces can fit together so. Thoughts.

The Facts: In 2011 Atlanta (mid-late July) Tashi and Art are engaged with an unconfirmed length of time until the wedding (but the US Open Series is 7 weeks so certainly late-September is the earliest calendar availability), Art is on a winning streak toward the US Open that he will fail at some point after this, and Tashi and Patrick hook up (not realizing Art sees them together for a moment before they vanish). Lily is an unconfirmed age but can't have been conceived more than a few months out from this point, since if Tashi got pregnant in Atlanta that would put Lily a few months past 7 at New Rochelle.

Now, the timing here is a bit odd for several reasons. Tashi strikes me as pretty neutral on motherhood in her 20s/early 30s era. Like if she really didn't want a kid she wouldn't have one. She's not a bad mom. But at the same time she does have her mom in their entourage to do most of the childcare and is actively fuming about her husband wanting to retire to spend time with his family, so, like, I think you can reason motherhood fulfillment wasn't an urgent need for her (especially since waiting until Art's sports career 30s retirement would have been fairly normal behavior? I could easily see her actively wanting a kid when it becomes less a "not now" and more "not ever" decision, too). Art clearly wanted a kid, and that's exactly the kind of thing that couples vaguely discuss before engagement to make sure they are compatible.

It's just that, well, trying for a kid during your engagement is odd. Accident baby is a possibility, but Tashi has lots of money, access to birth control, and a highly regimented health and nutrition team living in her family's pocket and probably designing their life health plan + daily medication and supplement intake like a normal person could never dream of. It can always happen but like. The odds. So I don't see her getting pregnant in Atlanta in the first place (and as previously mentioned don't find Lily being Patrick's narratively interesting enough to one-in-a-million the whole thing either 🤷‍♀️).

What does happen in Atlanta? Art's first mental wobble.

He doesn't win the 2011 US Open despite being the favorite to do so. Knowing Art and the whole Art/Tashi/Patrick mess he probably got into his head, slipped into a downward spiral, and imploded dramatically. Tashi would have complicated feelings about that but also, crucially, she did just cheat on him with Patrick and even though she doesn't think he knows... Maybe it's possible she feels a bit guilty for the cheating and a bit more guilty for the undeniable possibility that she somehow threw off Art's game due to vibes or a distracted coaching slip up or something. Maybe this is complicated by their upcoming wedding which was going to be a celebration and turns into a consolation prize, and how this kind of loss cannot be good for Art's inferiority complex about how she is really bad at reassuring him she does love him.

Maybe Tashi is lying in bed just before the wedding or on their honeymoon or even on their actual wedding night and she's been thinking about Patrick and Art and how to say I'm sorry and I still love you without acknowledging she did anything wrong for days, you know, and maybe she finally decides this is the best idea she's got.

And then maybe she turns to Art (silent in the dark) and says, unprompted, "Let's not wait. Let's have that baby now."

[meg2md]

Finished Volume 41 of Berserk, the last of Miura's work before he died, and I am unwell. I can't believe I didn't know about this series before recently!!!! I'm wrecked. It got me through the first three weeks of this night block, but I'm not sure how I'm supposed to survive the last week when I'll just be perseverating on the unfinished story :(

I still have work I need to do (M&M, AROM/FSE demos, surgical skills session paperwork) but I'm just not motivated.... All I want to do is re-read Berserk, go to the gym, and roleplay Guts and Casca fucking shit up in various video games :') at least I have this weekend off, because I've worked essentially three weeks straight and I'm tired

I got my first pull-up back at the end of August but haven't been able to progress past 1-2 with "ok" form and we're mid-way through October. I pulled the trigger on a pull-up bar and am going to try and focus my gym workouts on training specific muscles used for pull-ups but not unassisted pull-ups themselves, since I think too much of my limited gym time is wasted spinning my wheels with possibly questionable form when I could just do them at home when I have a spare second. I feasibly can only make it to the gym twice per week. There's just isn't enough time in residency to get all my extracurricular work done, clean my apartment, and enjoy life/hobbies/friends if I do any more than that. Which is sad. It's like, what's the point of life? Will I look back in 10, 20 years and actually be happy with everything I've accomplished? I don't think the answer is necessarily "yes" right now because I'm lonely and overworked and not sure what the point of anything is (lol I'm doing gr8) but that's another discussion. The only thing I know is that my physique/fitness/athleticism is one of the only things even remotely in my control, even if it still feels mostly out of my control due to residency constraints (poor eating habits, no time)

And yet we struggle on (gatsu <3)

I lost my 24/7 keycard to my gym so I'm going to hit the nursing school "gym" when I get off in the morning, plan for a "pull-up supplement" routine as follows:

Elliptical warm-up x10 min

Should rolls with bar, straight arm for warm-up

Inverted rows (with rings if able, otherwise barbell)

Bench press

Seated cable row

Superset tricep dips/t-arm raise

Superset dumbbell pull-overs/y-arm raise

Straight-arm Pushdown

Wide-grip scapula pull-ups

Dead hang

Ab exercise/hollow body rocks

General things to focus on for pull-ups:

External arm rotation for scapular activation, chest up;

Generate push-up/pull-up/bench press from muscles between shoulder blades; don't pull from hands - imagine arm is upper jaw, side is lower jaw and "biting down" to close versus "pulling up" (drive from your lats)!;

Body curls - bring legs up to bar

Target wide grip because it's my weakness, can focus on lats and small shoulder blade muscles

Practice hard movements, assisted if needed, to develop neuromuscular patterns - don't break form!! Stay within ROM with good form!! High rep/volume these movements

Focus on shoulders AWAY from neck for pull-ups and push-ups; engage back