#my specific circle of hell is itchiness

[foldingfittedsheets]

My arms got a tiny bit toasty at Pride because of my hubris and the fallout is that my arms aren’t sunburned enough to hurt. They’re just.

Itchy.

They’re so goddamn itchy. I am slathered with lotion but it is to avail. The itch consumes. The itch encompasses all.

[domestikhighway58]

✨ 2022 Writing Year In Review ✨

Thanks to @spencer-reids-adventures for tagging me! Woo!

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 58 (LOL UNINTENTIONAL)

2. Word count posted for the year: 1,099,815

3. Fandoms I wrote for: Criminal Minds, Harry Potter, Parks & Rec (but yo, I don't really count those last two)

4. Pairings: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid/The BAU Team, couple random outliers in there somewhere. Feel blessed I didn't drop any of my 4 Jeid fics in public.

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: Casimir Pulaski Day with 536

Bookmarks: Casimir Pulaski Day with 262

Comments: And again! Casimir Pulaski Day with 151 comment threads (why is sadness so popular?)

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

Honestly? My first ever fic and the thing that got me back into writing. The Eyes Have It literally opened my own eyes to writing again after a decade of not touching a keyboard. I did not think I would make it past 1000 words, let alone the 100,000 words that fic inspired. I had never written dialogue seriously before, never come up with any kind of extended plot, never explored character arcs, or even written creatively past a few lines of poetry. I posted that first chapter assuming I would lose interest or my depression would get the best of me yet again but neither of those things happened. I finished the three-part series three months later and made so many amazing fandom friends through that one fic. Even if it's not my most popular or even best-written work so far, it will always be my favorite.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

OOF. Well, quite a few fit that category but one I'm quite sad about is also just a symptom of my itchy fingers when it comes to writing whatever pops in my head. I deleted it (so sorry) but I plan to return to it one day and make it what I wanted it to be. If you're dying for shitty Highway58 drunkfics, here are these two terrible gems: The Wolf (terrible half-assed attempt at werewolf Spencer, update coming the next time I have whiskey) and my one and only Harry Potter fic, Sequi Mi, where I decided no matter how hard I fangirled on HP in my youth I can't do it anymore now. Maybe one day.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

My very first few comments on my first-ever fic bolstered my confidence like nothing else could. Some were short, some were so long and detailed that they made me cry. I recall two specific commenters who stuck by that crazy story with inspiration and encouragement and they are now in my circle of online friends I never would have found if I didn't keep writing. <3 Every comment I get is an amazing compliment and every single person who decides to take the time to read my bullshit is a goddamned gift.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Several stories I've completed this year spanned a time of my life that I thought was my lowest point. While writing it out through fic was helpful, it was also an outlet that exposed my issues and forced me to face them. The hardest time for me to write was also the time I probably wrote the most, when I was in that lowest space around this time last year. I felt guilty about it when everything else was going to hell but I kept doing it. Ultimately, exploring this side of my creativity allowed me to overcome some of those massive problems I thought were insurmountable.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: 

So many. I think I was somewhat surprised to find how much I enjoy writing the OC protagonist from their warped perspectives. I wrote a sadistically evil Doctor, a psychopathic billionaire heiress, and a Wild West warlord this year all within the context of CM and they were SO MUCH fun, I'm sad I killed them all. I also just think it's interesting to explore the potential depths of OCs within the fanfiction genre. So, that was a pleasant surprise when all I anticipated starting on this journey was a new way to explore the characters I already love.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Ugh. I dunno. Too many words, but here's this from my first OC I still love and miss: Cheers, Caro, you might be in my first OG novel one day:

"Time to make an offering. 

The clothes and the phone bundled in her hands, she turned to the door. Walked down the narrow stairs, across the empty hall. Pushed the creaking screen door open against a violent night, the storm which had gathered earlier finally unleashing its fury. 

She cradled the phone with the image of those hands frozen, locked against her. Against her. On her. In her. Choking life back into her. 

Edging the rusted gate open she entered the garden. The wildness couldn’t compare with home, but it was something. " The Eyes Have It, Chapter 19

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: 

I think I've expressed this already elsewhere but... I wasn't a writer at all before this year. I dabbled for years in poetry and songwriting before landing at a point where I assumed my creativity was dead beneath the yoke of daily life and responsibility. When I started reading fanfiction, I was more depressed than I have ever been in my life. I buried myself in the words of others and wished I could even come close to that kind of creative expression. So when I finally sat down to write a story, I outlined something that came nowhere close to the story I ultimately wrote--and that's when I learned it's not about planning or hoping to do it, it's just about doing it. So, if anything, I grew comfortable with the idea that I can write and that I should--for myself. Because it helps.

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

I hope to start finishing my WIPs more succinctly and with a bit more regularity. I do think I need to spend less time writing fanfic and more time honing my other skills. It is difficult to find the delicate balance between doing something for fun and doing it because you feel you need to please others. That's the double-edged sword of writing and posting fics--sometimes you feel the guilt weigh heavy when you let. a story lie there for months without relief. So, I want to probably slow down with my writing and be a little more intentional with it going forward. (Though honestly, that pains me to imagine--I love following the faintest whiff of fresh plot wherever it might lead). I do know I have no plans on stopping now that I've started.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): 

This is so hard. I've met so many new people this year who have endlessly encouraged and inspired me. Way too many to list here. I will shout out to @foggyblues-ralvez for being the first person to say Hi to me from the fandom (seriously, my dear Mandy, thank you <3). @masterwords, I love you and writing with you has been a fucking honor (also just hi, you should do this if you haven't yet, ily). @spencer-reids-adventures--endless love for your support and comments and the sprints, literally every step of the way. And then I'll shout out @brillianthijinx because darlin' you bring out a side in me I love and am terrified by lol, in the best way. But again, if I were to personally shout out every single person who has made an impact on me and my writing this year this silly thing would be longer than my ao3 wordcount. No one wants that.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

I won't go into detail here, but, yes. I write Spencer as my comfort character. While I sensationalize his issues to suit the story, the emotions are written from repressed experiences I have never explored. Writing is therapy as much as it is an obsession for me.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Just start writing. Don't think. Write. Share it or don't. Edit or don't. Just write. Every damn day, if you can.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

Good lord, ALL of them. I hope to finish Casimir Pulaski Day by the end of January. I will be bringing back Signed, Sealed, Delivered in January as well. I want to finish up a few short fics soon and then continue my sequel to Silk Road quite soon. I have several A/B/O fics in the works, including the sequel to Old Town Road. @masterwords and I will of course be continuing our soft Hotchreid saga in Missing Pieces of Sleep. And then, you know, in my spare time I plan to start up part 2 of Finding it Out to explore some complicated Moreid/Hotchreid love triangle stuff within the canon. So, I've got a few things going on, ya.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@masterwords @eldrai @goobzoop @tobias-hankel @pandorasdreamings @fortheloveofwonderland

[scarsforsupper]

Did somene say "Send Prompt??"!?

Hi,I hope you're doing fine,if I may I have something that maybe can help?[actually it will be probably make things harder cause the prompts I create sometimes are oddly specific or nonsense]

"You're trying to knit a scarf for Viktor's bday,turns out is a conplete disaster,it's even itchy as hecc,though Viktor tries his best to hide it because you did your best and appreciates your hard work."

Feel free to change stuff,make headcanons,a drabble,whatever it makes you comfortable.Take your time ♡

Oh, the weather outside is frightful, and this scarf is...mm, delightful

Viktor x gn! reader (Unchecked and unrevised!!)

wc: 3.6k

HI HI IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!! i started on reqs a week ago and i pushed myself to finish it today and post bc its!! my!! birthday!! im finally 18 ^^ a treat for u guys <3 for @togetherhearted

My sunbeam? Is that you?”

Your heart jumped out of your chest at the sound of Viktor’s voice, electricity shooting through your nerves, a blush following immediately. Viktor has always had a way with words—they always leave you feeling fuzzy. A blushing mess.

Before replying to the man to let him know it was indeed you, your hands fumbled with the long wooden sticks, quickly shoving along with it the colorful bunch of yarn and fibers into the little brown case you’ve brought along with you.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me.” You hollered, the sound of the steady taps of his crutch getting louder and louder.

As he rounded the corner of the corridor connecting the door to the main room of the lab, you spun around in your chair to greet him, a mop of brown hair peeking past the wall. The rest of his gangly body came into view as he sauntered over to where you sat.

“How was the meeting?” you probed, attempting to draw his attention away from the small suitcase you’ve placed behind you.

Scrunching his nose in reply, “Not so good,” he sighed, “it appears Heimerdinger isn’t fond of having our recent innovations out to the public just yet.”

Melancholy dripped from his mouth and into your heart, it broke you to find out that all those late nights spent in the lab might as well be for naught.

Furrowed brows were evident in your features as rose from your chair and stepped towards him. You wrapped your arms around his sleek figure, palms resting on either shoulder blade.

"I'm so sorry, Vik." You mumbled against his waistcoat.

He chuckled softly, "You didn't do anything wrong, love." He coiled his unoccupied arm around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. He breathed in your scent, vanilla. Calming to the max.

"I know... it's just- I can't believe that you just got thrown off the right to reap what you've sowed—" at this point, you were fuming, "—all those sleepless nights, missing out on meals, literally working your best, and this is what you get?"

Viktor sensed your breathing increase greatly, your short outburst already manifesting physically. He slowly traced a finger up and down your spinal column, the other hand's thumb drawing small circles into your waist in an effort to calm you down.

You pressed the side of your head to his chest, ear directly above where his heart is, slow thumps easing you down.

"And tomorrow's your birthday..."

Yes, tomorrow is Viktor's birthday—which brings us back to whatever the hell you were attempting to create with the yarn you had purchased weeks ago.

In preparation for your lover's big day, you had decided to produce something that would hopefully be of good use to him—more so that the winter has been especially harsh this year. You figured you could have just bought something, but you were feeling sappy as you thought of what to give as a present for him.

You had gone to the market for your monthly restocking of perishables and non-perishables when you came across an unfamiliar yet striking stall that traded crafts materials for a few gold coins.

They had blazing crimson rows of wool, bright yellow balls of thread being spun, deep cerulean weaves hung in one corner, rich brown fabrics pinned for display—the little kiosk was a rainbow in itself; it housed the most vibrant hues you have ever seen with your eyes.

It was no question that you were by no means an artist, nor were you involved in any of the creative arts—but that didn’t mean that you were absolutely uneducated in the field. You knew bits of this and scraps of that, but you never really delved much into it. You were more of what people called ‘left-brained,’ focusing more on the analytical and logical aspect of things.

As a young scholar, your heart immediately sought out the natural and applied sciences: Robotics, Biochemistry, Engineering—the likes. You were one of those students that stayed behind after each lecture, opting to linger around to get homework and projects done, taking advantage of the presence of the professor to ask questions and to clear concerns. The fondness towards the scientific courses soon grew into a full-blown passion for discovery and knowledge. You graduated as one of the top students in the field of techmaturgy, which granted you the privilege of having your very own research laboratory in the academy grounds—which is where you were currently in at the moment—and what led you to the first encounter with the love of your life.

Viktor had his own lab that he shared with Jayce Talis, courtesy of Heimerdinger and Councilor Medarda’s approval. Being the dean’s assistant had its perks, but having his own research office did not count as one of them. He had only gotten his own area when he and Jayce proved that fabricating the arcane was indeed possible; he had shared an office with the dean only until then.

“On the bright side,” Viktor muttered, slightly pulling away from the embrace to hold you at arm’s length, one palm resting on your shoulder as he kept the other on his crutch to stabilize himself, “I wouldn’t have to spend tomorrow night writing up license manuscripts.” He looked at you with bright eyes, his brows relaxed and a small smile rested on his lips.

He studied your expression with great focus, searching for signs of either relief or discomfort—heart hoping for the former.

Your mouth turned up slightly as your eyes crinkled in joy, and he took that as a sign to continue.

“However, I am to spend the afternoon at work, we still have to clean up the lab and return everything to their respective whereabouts—we did acquire quite a few tools and hazardous materials that require immediate safekeeping when not in use.”

“Excellent!” You quipped, almost not letting him finish. It was a marvelous coincidence; now you would have enough time to finish what you were desperately trying to fabricate.

Viktor was surprised, he was expecting a gloomy reply, or perhaps a sunken expression to etch its way onto your face, but none of those occurred. It was quite the opposite, actually. A peculiar grin was present instead. He wasn’t offended, or disappointed—no, that’s not very much like him at all. If anything, he was curious. Intrigued. What could possibly make you feel relieved that he would be gone for the day, more so that it’s on his birthday?

There was only one seemingly appropriate answer to that: you were preparing something for him. Something that he was to not know of until then.

It only intrigued him further; the prospect of the unknown. It scratched that perfect spot in his scientist brain, gave him something to ponder and think about. Create theories about.

As fun as it would be to exercise his ability to crack you open—he likes to exploit that sometimes—he knew better than to do that. So he pouted instead.

"Excellent? That I'm gone for the whole day, save for the night?" He playfully scoffed, the huff racking through his body making his leg brace squeak in protest.

"My, I must say, I am thoroughly hurt," his voice rasped as he adjusted one arm on the handle of his crutch, the other one on his chest, emphasizing his words. "Such venomous words..."

"Oh, my apologies," you couldn't hold in your laughter as it rang throughout the room, the beautiful sound music in Viktor's ears. Oh, how he loved the raw sound of your unhinged laughter, he always felt as if he'd slept a full 8 hours after hearing such wondrous resonance.

The two of you laughed your hearts away for the rest of the evening, only ceasing when it was time to head to the warm apartment the two of you shared.

____________________________

Knitting was never your strong suit.

Marked with an 'X' on the calendar was the 29th of December—today. It's finally Viktor's birthday.

It was a bright morning despite the snow that fell upon the city of Piltover (and whatever parts of Zaun it could reach). It was light, which was what enabled sunshine to come through. The chill of winter stayed, but it was refreshing—and beautiful to bask in the bright of day, the whiteness of powder-soft snow glowing as the light hit every fractal.

You were stationed on the carpet just below the foot of the bed, a window to your right. It let in the perfect amount of light for your tedious project, you can't afford to make a mistake on this one. Though you most definitely already have. Many times.

You continued looping yarn after yarn, grips on the knitting needles unrelenting as you ransacked your brain for the lectures you've heard in a Home Economics class you sat in for the sake of learning how to efficiently live independently. You started at around 8 in the morning, a few minutes past when Viktor left for work.

You'd greeted him the moment the clock struck twelve the night before, and in the morning you'd greeted him with breakfast in bed knowing he won't spare a minute in the lab even for a quick snack. Good-bye kisses ensued as the two of you went on with your itinerary for the day: him, laboratory work, and you, this fucking handmade scarf.

It was like a trial by fire; it was testing each and every ounce of patience you've got. Ever since you started, random knots and out-of-place strands have been popping here and there, making it look like a damn foot rag. The only thing that could possibly one-up it was that it was soft on the hands, like a hand towel.

What you did forget to consider was that the skin on the neck was way more delicate—not to mention sensitive.

You were so keen on finishing your little project as soon as possible that you'd lost track of time; you were almost done, just a few more knots here-

And there.

In your hands lay a bunched-up maroon and navy-blue striped scarf—the product of your love. And stress.

Not bad for a first-timer, you thought.

To be fair, it did look decent enough to be gifted to someone, save for a few knots and loose threads here and there.

You had only started to feel the strain creeping up on your nerves from the prolonged hunching of your back and folding of your legs; you were too immersed in knitting that your brain had started to ignore every sensation but the materials in your hands.

Only then did it the realization dawn upon you as you glanced out the window, that the sun had begun to set—Viktor could arrive any minute. It didn’t even occur to you to remember when exactly you had gotten up to switch on the lights.

You scrambled onto your knees as you reached for the brown wooden suitcase, hurriedly stuffing the extra balls of yarn and knitting needles, pair of shears and measuring tool. Shutting the box close, you pushed it under the bed as you grabbed the finished scarf and sat on the edge of the bed. You folded the scarf evenly and placed it on Viktor's pillow, after which you headed to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee for two.

You poured hot water over the filter as you felt your heart rate come down from its previous riled state. As you turned to the cabinets, the sound of the main door creaking joined the squeak of the cabinet door. With a bottle of sweetmilk in hand, you spun on your heel towards the counter when you found yourself face to face with a very eager and joyous looking Viktor.

Your shoulders jumped microscopically—you didn't even hear the soft thuds of his crutch against the wooden flooring of your apartment, only the door, was all.

"Jesus, Vik, I almost dropped your sweetmilk." You half laughed-half sighed, breath fanning his face as he inched even closer, just until about an inch was all there was between the two of you.

"Mm... and would you get angry if it did?" He mumbled, deep voice rich in his accent, you swore your knees almost buckled were it not for the invisible support his body had on yours.

"Birthday or not, I could never get angry at you," you leaned in and pressed a sweet yet short kiss on his lips before pulling away, "Happy Birthday, my love."

He kissed you in response, free hand snaking around your waist. You smiled against his lips, tongues barely dancing against teeth. You pulled away and pressed one last kiss before fully detaching yourself from him, his head following yours in pursuit of more.

The scarf. The scarf. You slipped away from his grasp, placing the bottle on the counter behind him. Things would have escalated very quickly if you hadn't pulled away—it’s not that you didn't want to—god knows how much you crave for him just as how he craves for you. But you had other things planned for today. And besides, sex could come later. Like a dessert; the cherry on top.

Viktor watched as you turned to face him, hands behind your back, supporting your frame as you leaned on the kitchen island.

You could no longer control your excitement, a large grin making its way on your face.

“Actually,” you spoke, voice sweet and soft like milk and honey, “I made a little something for you.”

Aha, Viktor thought, he got you right where he wanted. He played along, knowing that you spent so much effort in keeping the element of surprise—he didn’t want to water you down.

“A present? For me?” His eyes wide and his pupils blown. He was so in love with you.

You smiled back at him, relieved that he seemed just as enthusiastic as you.

“I’ll go fetch it.” At that, you left the kitchen.

Viktor followed you on your way to the bedroom. He’d caught sight of the neatly folded scarf on his pillow upon his arrival, but hadn’t paid much attention to it—he thought you had bought it from a clothing retailer—he had absolutely no idea that you had made it yourself. You just managed to catch him off guard even when he knew you were planning a surprise.

The scarf looked amazingly decent—at least when he was 10 feet away.

But now that he held it in his hands, he lost all words in his mental dictionary.

You had placed the scarf meekly into his palms as soon as he was close enough, you hadn’t had the words to say, so you decided the action would speak for itself. When he hadn’t muttered a single sound—only tossing and turning the fabric, smoothing it out, and stretching it carefully before him did you decide that it would be time to speak.

“Do you…do you like it?” You breathed, nervous that your little creation was a complete disaster.

It was. But Viktor wouldn’t say that. He would never admit that. To be fair, it wasn’t a complete disaster; it just…simply had a few too many mishaps. Which wasn’t a problem, at all! What mattered to him was the effort you put in and the love you had poured while making it.

“Is it alright? I-I did lose count of my rows a few times but I did focus a lot more!” At this point you were rambling. What if he didn’t like it? “I may have done it a little too tight in some areas but I can fix it if you wa-“

“It’s perfect.”

“W…what?” What?

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You like? It?” Oh god. He likes it!?

Viktor examined you as you stared him back. Pure love and appreciation were evident in those rich golden irises of his—a feature you adored so much. To see love in his eyes was like lying on a cool patch of grass during the summer, the scent of fresh morning dew and citrus distinct in the air.

He rested his crutch on the nightstand and placed the scarf back on the bed as he hobbled closer to you.

With all his heart (and a very thick accent,) Viktor reassured you as he took you into his arms, “I love it. I love it so much,” he cupped your cheek with one hand and stabilized himself with the other on your waist, “thank you.”

He finished with a sweet, warm kiss on your forehead, traces of his cedarwood perfume making its way to your nostrils.

Before crossing off gift-giving from your list, you first wanted to see what it would look like if he wore the scarf; you wanted to make sure he didn’t look stupid when you’d set off for your dinner date in town.

“Will you…” you stalled, shy eyes studying his face, your gaze alternated between the mole below his right eye and the one above his lip. It was a habit you couldn’t seem to break—settling on his beauty marks whenever you feel embarrassed or nervous. As your lover, Viktor was not unaware of this. In fact, he always seemed to catch on the second you lower your gaze from his eyes—and he’d immediately get to work on soothing you.

“…wear it?”

“Why, yes I would! I’d wear it every time I go out.” Viktor proudly spoke, prolonging the 'every.'

Your heart swelled at his statement, giggling as you rephrased it for him, “I mean, will you try it on? Here? Now?”

It was his turn to laugh.

"And I would do that, too"

He reached for the piece of knitted cloth he'd placed on the bedside table minutes ago, his senses registering the wooly texture of the yarns you used. He was almost sure it was going to provide him with the utmost comfort on the harshest of days; wrapping him with warmth and the love you had created it with—as if it were your own arms around him.

Almost.

Anticipation clutched your heart like a vice as you watched him carefully wrap the delicate fabric around his neck, tucking in the last few feet under the new swirl that constricted around him like a snake. It was almost adorable; you wished it lived up to how snug it appeared.

And it did, at first. Viktor felt blissfully warm. It was soft to the skin, and it covered what the cold loved to prey on first.

"I can't help but wonder," he inquired, "of all gifts, why a scarf? Much less, a handmade one?"

It wasn't that Viktor didn't appreciate something that wasn't ready-made or store-bought—it just had a homey feel to it—and he couldn't quite place the forlorn feeling of nostalgia that was starting to hit him like a brick. It just didn't seem orthodox for you to indulge in artistic craftsmanship. He knew you like the back of his palm—and he knew that you weren't the most artistically inclined.

"I remember you told me once... it was a long time ago, you probably wouldn't remember—but you told me-" you were staring at his mole again.

"Breathe with me, you're doing great."

Sucking in a breath at his instruction, you continued, "You told me that your mother was a craftsman. An artisan."

Oh lord... was that why you picked a handmade scarf as a present for him?

"I wanted to make something meaningful that would remind you of...well, home."

He did tell you stories of his mum. That she was the brightest and most creative artisan in all of Runeterra. You could recall just how starry his eyes would get and the glee that sang in his voice whenever he mused about her.

He loved her so much.

The soft glow that emanated from the window behind you as the sun dipped into the horizon definitely didn't help the newfound adoration for you that was starting to paint you in a new light. It was all coming together now, and it definitely scratched the itch in his brain.

Speaking of which, just as the itch in his brain was scratched, a new one formed. And it was coming from the skin under the fabric.

Viktor craned his neck—he didn't want to pay any mind to it—hoping it would somehow disappear if he continued ignoring it. But it didn't.

Miniscule tingling soon turned into full-blown discomfort; the prickling sensation ravaged around his neck like a lion would a helpless gazelle. It didn't help that you were fawning over him, eyes bright and vivid as you admired the way it looked on him.

"Wear it out to dinner later, hm?" You chirped, "I'm taking you out to town tonight."

Oh, my sweet pie, tell me how I'd last with this caterpillar—very lovely caterpillar—around my neck. But god forbid he say that. He saw right through your actions how much you'd anticipated for him to wear it, just as how you'd put the thought and meaning into making it—with your very own hands and sweat.

He smiled as he stretched his neck once more, pushing the irritating sensation of the threads in the yarn to the back of his mind; he could deal with it. As long as he had you by his side, he knew he could deal with anything. That was just how the two of you worked—you were the strength of each other.

A hand extended to you in invitation.

"Then, shall we?"

[bananamuffinspecial]

Bruce Wayne’s skin care routine

Listen, this idea hasn’t left me alone for almost a week now so this is me pouring my thoughts out.

Bruce has definitely got a skin care routine. Don’t fight me on this one. Make up, while great for hiding bruises and dark circles under the eyes can only do so much to make him look fresh and well-rested. Which is how ‘Brucie’ is expected to be, you know, being a playboy.

It would be a rather simple one though.

Maybe just constantly washing his face to keep it clean because lets be honest, Gotham isn’t the cleanest city out there. And ofc there’s all the grime, body fluids, etc that result of fighting crime and that not only stick to his suit but somehow manage to get all over him.

Also wearing the cowl for prologued periods has gotta irritate his skin, no matter how many modifications he makes to ensure it’s more comfortable and breathable (as a cowl’s gonna get anyway). Especially in the summer with the rise in temperature and humidity. The mix of sweat, dirt and more-often-than-not blood, rubbing against his face will often leave his skin itchy.

Then he’d also apply moisturizer and will always, always, wear sunscreen because he burns easily. Once he went to the inauguration of one of WE’s projects and had to stand on a barren field for 2 hours in direct sunlight with just a bright yellow helmet (which ofc did close to nothing against the sun). Needless to say, he came back to the Manor with the top of his nose, ears and cheekbones with a red hue and tender to the touch. Alfred took care of that light sunburn and ever since won’t let Bruce out of the house if he’s not protected against UVA and UVB.

Occasionally, he’ll use a face mask as well. Particularly when he works on tough cases and thus has been running on less than 3 hrs of sleep and ‘power naps’ (which don’t actually count as sleeping but don’t tell that to Bruce, he’ll just glare at you and probably doze off right after. Ask Clark, he’ll confirm it). Also under-eye patches are a quick solution when he must attend some social event as they help reduce puffiness and dampen dark circles. In that case he’ll also apply some make up cause there’s no reason for ‘Brucie’ to look that weary, even if he’d gone on a partying spree and was suffering from a hell of a hangover.

All the products he uses are def custom-made.

Now, this isn’t specific to any continuity, I just had this image in my head. I can picture that during the early days of the JL (around the time where they knew each other’s identities but it was still kinda awkward seeing others out of costume) someone, Barry was probably the first, bumped into Bruce in the Watchtower/Hall of Justice. He would still be in full Batman gear except for the cowl, which was pulled back, and he’d be wearing these golden under-eye patches. It took a minute for Barry to process what he was seeing. Others had a similar experience, but the initial shock wore off rather quickly. It became a common sight after that, particularly in the private rooms area.

[20dollarlolita]

1/2 Hi, and thank you for all your tutorials and resources! I'm making my first OP right now, and wanted to ask for opinions on lining. One of the fabrics I'm using for the dress is a wool/polyester blend, and the other one was sold to me as wool (not sure if it has anything else in it, tried to do a burn test but I feel like I can never understand those lol). I'll be either handwashing the dress or washing it on a very gentle cycle in the washing machine.

2/2 (I know you're not really supposed to wash wool but...) What fabric do you recommend for lining wool? I don't really want to go for polyester, because it tends to make me feel either cold or sweaty, or both. Also, the skirt of the dress is a circle skirt, and I'm wondering what the pattern for the skirt lining should look like (I won't be flatlining). Making the lining a circle skirt too feels wasteful somehow

Okay, for starters, I totally wash wool. I wash pretty much everything, My general rule is to pre-wash things with a little bit more aggression than you do regular laundry, and then if it survived the pre-wash, it’s fine. Do a swatch test first, though. The poly pinstripe suiting from Joann DEFINITELY is a dry-clean only fabric, for what it’s worth

Most well-known breathable lining is Bemberg, which is rayon. You ever wondered why a lot of rain coats are dry clean only? Bemberg is to blame there. I pretty much never use it, because it’s expensive and fragile.

I frequently use quilt cotton as a lining, just like you’d use a lining fabric. It breathes a lot better than poly, and it’s cheaper, and it washes pretty okay.

(Costume designer side note: you know who sweats a whole lot? Ballet dancers. A lot of tutus are hell to wash. The bodices are usually lined in cotton coutil (unless they’re stretch tutus, which are their own problem). Those things get washed after the show (maybe), and it’s a whole ordeal with taking ornamentation plates off and untacking layers and then washing them and putting the plates back on and tacking them back down. You know how long a tutu is expected to last once it’s made? FOREVER. They are not permitted to die, ever. They’re not a one-show dealio. Building just the base tutu takes 80+ hours sometimes, not including decoration, and that base is expected to last until roughly 2 years after the fabric has completely given up the ghost and started to fall apart. Sometimes, I run into people who say you can’t line a garment with cotton fabric because it won’t last, and I challenge them to go into any theatre costume stock, find the ancient tutu that’s hiding somewhere in there--and there will be one--and turn it inside out.)

This sort of gets to what the purpose of a lining is. Main reasons to line things, in no order:

To provide a barrier between the wearer and the fabric

To make the garment more comfortable

To protect a fragile fabric from the strain of being made into a garment

To add opacity to a thin or transparent fabric

To change the way that a fabric will lay or drape

To provide a nice look on the inside

Depending on how you arrange that list when you line it up in order of importance for your specific garment, you can choose what is the best lining for your garment.

Consideration 1, a barrier between the wearer and the fabric. If your fabric is prone to absorbing body oils and discoloring or stinking, you might want to put a fabric that does not absorb moisture between the wearer and the garment. This might be a case for the polyester lining. The fabric won’t breathe, but it’ll be more protected from damage.

Consideration 2, comfort. If you have a fabric that doesn’t breathe (let’s pick on polyester again), you can line it in a fabric that does breathe, which will allow the wearer to be slightly less hot. If the fabric is thin and the garment needs to be warm, a lining in something thick like fleece can make the garment warm. If the fabric is itchy, a lining can stop it from touching the skin. The fabric you select should be able to do the job you want, and also feel comfortable on the skin.

Consideration 3, protecting fragile fabric. You have a loose-weave fabric like gauze, and it’s in a high-stress seam like a side seam. Without a lining, every time that you breathe, the expansion and contraction of your chest will pull on the threads in the fabric. Because gauze is so loosely woven, the threads will shift and make holes where your stitches are.

If you put in a lining of a stable fabric, then when you breathe, the stress is being put on the stitches in the stable fabric, which won’t shift. The gauze outer layer is no longer load-bearing. For this, you want a fabric that will not shift under stress.

Consideration 4, to add opacity. This should be obvious, but if your fabric is thin enough that you could see someone’s tattoo through it, adding another layer behind that thin layer can stop it from being visible. For this, you want a fabric close to the color of the outside, so that the color can’t show through and change the color of the front.

Consideration 5, to change how a fabric will lay or drape. You can make thin fabrics act like they’re thicker with a lining. You can make fabrics that normally fold into thin lines (chiffon) lay smoothly and make large folds. For this, you want a fabric that has the drape you desire.

Consideration 6, to look good on the inside. Sometimes, the inside matters as much as the outside. Coats are a good example of this, where they’re often taken off and carried, so the inside is visible. For this, you want a fabric that elevates the garment to another level. Does it match well? Is the pattern cute and add a nice pop? What can you do with the lining to make it work extra-well.

So, take a look at the list, and check out why you’re lining the garment. Once you know what your most important considerations are, you can narrow down what you want to use.

[zigtheeortega]

to hell and back

✿ pairing: logan x mc

✿ word count: 4174

✿ warnings: mentions of violence from book one & angst

✿ tags: @diamondsless ; @agentsewell ; @violinet ; @messofakind ; @hudush ; @roguemal ; @troublemakerinspace ; @choicesarehard ; @litgpop ; @auroraemery 

✿ author’s note: i’m incredibly nervous to post this, as this is my first ever logan fic so please be gentle! i got the idea for this fic after watching portrait of a lady on fire, after being reminded of the myth of orpheus and eurydice, which if you haven’t ever heard of it, read up here! the idea of a forbidden love always breaks me but i’m a sucker for punishment, so i thought i’d apply that myth to future logan x mc (my mc’s name is raquel). i hit a follower milestone, too, so i thought i’d celebrate by pushing myself out of my comfort zone! woo![disclaimer: i’d never want to accidentally upset anyone by writing him ooc, so if you have any pointers, please dm me] 

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

He was the last person she’d expected to hear from. It’d been years. Her life was finally getting back on track, and she was moving on.

She white-knuckled the steering wheel, her hands slick with sweat, and peeled out of the parking lot of her dorm, leaving her world to enter his again.

Some days, her time with the Mercy Park Crew felt like a distant dream, a day dream she’d conjured while bored at school. Other times, she’d reminisce on his specific features to make sure she’d never forget what he sounded like, how he looked, how he felt.

Some days, she’d zero in on his eyes, the way the brown tones were multidimensional, layered, and how dark and full his lashes were, shading his dilated pupils when he’d stare at her lips before leaning in for a kiss.

Other days, she’d focus specifically on his hair; the strong coconut smell of his deep conditioning mask, which he unabashedly used, a secret she swore to keep, and the silky feeling of his thick waves beneath the pads of her fingers.

She’d spent years mulling over her time with the Mercy Park Crew, spilling tears every time she came across her prom photo with Logan, so often that she had to lock it up in a journal she’d filled long before. She was used to the feeling of a choked sob, the tension in her lungs and the soreness that came after a good cry: a comfort so familiar to her that it was one of the only things that reminded her she was alive – that she was human.

She’d spent so much time grappling with her morality, the guilt of her involvement weighing heavily on her for her entire freshman year. The depression that came with it was unrelenting, the loneliness of moving across state lines settling in almost immediately. The nightmares were worse.

They came as quickly as they went – in short blips, interwoven with her worst memories. It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up in cold sweats, vivid details of bullets ripping through flesh, the metallic smell of blood burned into her memory.

She often woke up trembling, panting, always quick to muffle her cries with her pillow as to not wake her roommate.

She spent the majority of her first year in isolation, a self-inflicted punishment for the people she’d harmed in such a short span of time. Thankfully, her roommate was rarely there.

She was homesick, but not for Los Angeles. 

No matter how much she wanted to go back, she wouldn’t allow herself to go. Not for holiday breaks or summer.

For the first year, her chest felt like a gaping wound, and she struggled with aimlessness, the thoughts of her purposelessness a constant mental burden. She toed the ledge, always close to jumping but never committed.

It took intense therapy to get her to a safe distance.

She slammed on the brakes, the red hue of the brake light in front of her the only thing warning her to stop. The burst of adrenaline she got from almost rear-ending another car was the most she’d felt in a long time.

She had chased the high relentlessly, either isolating herself completely during depressive episodes or throwing herself into high risk situations to feel something – anything.

Driving had become a utility to her, transportation and nothing more.

She associated the exhilarating sensation of pressing the gas pedal until her foot was nearly pointed, the smell of burning rubber, her tangled, windswept hair caught in her lip gloss – with Logan. It was wrong to try to recreate it without him.

When she’d left for Langston, she’d never looked back. Partially because she felt like she had nearly nothing anchoring her to L.A., but also because her last semester had a sense of finality to it. The crew vanished without a trace, and her inhibitions returned.

It took her five days of driving and stopping to make it to the campus. Her once intimidating, tightly packed car barely filled her half of the shared dorm room. And once she was on campus, she rarely drove anywhere, unless absolutely necessary.

She clung to the hope that she’d be able to find a crew of her own in undergrad, and that she’d hear his voice again. Envisioning Logan’s lips enunciating her nickname gave her a rush close to adrenaline, but not quite.

The soft pattering of rain on her windshield drew her out of her reminiscent thoughts. She blinked, glancing around the pitch black road, searching for a road marker. She flicked her high beams on, bouncing off of a distance marker. “Greenwood – 13 miles”.

He’d called at nearly midnight, his voice trembling, quiet, the bass of his voice keeping him from a true whisper. “Raquel, I need you.”

His tone was pure fear, the four words dripping with the subtext of a flubbed deal, a job gone wrong.

She kept the same phone number, clinging to the belief that maybe, just maybe, she’d hear her name roll off his tongue one more time. 

It took three years for her to hear his voice again. And he was terrified.

She’d spent three long years dealing with the aftermath of the spring of her senior year of high school. A couple months of living in a new world had left a lifetime of damage, and she’d come out of it changed. The damage had festered, so much so that she had to seek help.

She’d promised herself that if she ever saw him again, she’d stand her ground, and try to pull him out of the deep end. She was strong willed, and well intentioned, that much she was sure. She learned so much about herself during that last semester, and she was grateful for it.

And all of that was abandoned the second he spoke her name.

She turned off the highway, and after a long stretch of backroads framed with gravel driveways, the bar came into focus. The open sign flickered, overshadowed by the numerous draft beer logos shining brightly around it.

The parking lot was nearly empty, a couple of reverse-parked pickup trucks scattered across the gravel. The muffled music met her ears, barely audible over the electric bug zapper near the entrance.

She still couldn’t get used to the muggy, swampy weather of the east coast, much less the mosquitoes and the irritating itchiness of a fresh bite.

The chill of the air conditioning hit her before her nerves did. With nothing but a few bills, her driver’s license, phone, and determination, she’d set out to save him. She hadn’t even prepared.

What was she supposed to say to the one person who burrowed his way into her subconscious and never left? The one that she was forced to live without, even though she craved daily him like the sweet bitterness of nicotine, the fleeting high enough to keep her coming back, no matter if it’d eventually kill her.

In the back booth of the dingy bar, she saw him.

She noticed the stubble first, so foreign from the smooth tanned skin she remembered running her fingers across. The dark circles under his eyes aged him, the years of trauma finally catching up to him. It’s like his light was dimmed; she thought he was broken before, but whatever healing journey she’d had, he’d endured the opposite over the years.

His cheeks looked hollow, like he hadn’t eaten in days. From the look of his greasy hair and dirt stained white tee, he’d been on the run nonstop.

“Logan?” She called out, just loud enough for him to hear.

He met her eyes, and for a brief second, they were empty, devoid of emotion, just long enough for her to notice, before they filled with tears. He jumped up from the tattered booth seat: grabbing her in a crushing hug, burying his face in her neck.

He murmured her name into her neck over and over, like he couldn’t believe she was real. She wrapped her arms around him, his familiar warmth bringing her to tears. 

And they stayed like that, enveloped in each other, not a single thing around them mattering, except the feeling of being in each others’ arms after years apart.

When she pulled back to look at him, he stared at her lips, and ran his thumb across her chin. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she breathed, her arms snaking around to his front, and she grazed the tight muscles of his torso.

A drunken man shoved past them towards the restrooms, taking her out of the moment.

“Should we sit?”

He nodded, sliding onto his side of the table. “Do you… want a drink, or?” He asked, a bit nervously.

“No, I’m driving.” She fiddled with the braided keychain attached to her car keys, pulling at the frayed edges.

“That’s the responsible Raquel I missed,” he chuckled, breaking the tension a bit. He took a deep gulp from the beer bottle in front of him.

“I missed you so much,” she sighed, watching his face intently, committing every new detail to memory, tucking it away for later.

“I missed you, too.”

It was a hard conversation to initiate, much less navigate. She was still deciding if he was real – she’d dreamt of the moment she’d see him again, and it wasn’t anything close to what was happening.

She’d daydreamed of him pulling up to her dorm, parked out front like he did when they first met, as cliche as it sounded. Donned with the same white tee and jeans, he was leaning against the car (in her dream she pictured a convertible, so she could watch how beautifully the wind’s rough caress styled his hair, able to tousle it in a way a pair of hands never could), a smirk on his face, his arms folded, but his body language was never uninviting. He was relaxed, untroubled, as she kissed him, and they drove off into the sunset. A cliche, but at least they were both happy.

“So…” she started.

“I know you have a lot of questions, but I don’t know if I can answer all of them right now,” he finished, apologetic.

“Why not?”

“Let’s just say that… subter-fudge doesn’t always work to get you out of sticky situations.”

“You mean subterfuge?”

“Okay, truth be told I’ve never used that word in my life, but it was the word of the day on this dictionary app I have. And I was saving it for a good time, but I think I fucked it up,” he smiled, shaking his head.

She reached across the table, covering his hand with her own. “Let me get this straight. You not only learned a new word to use on me, but you have a dictionary app? You know you can just Google words, right?”

He shrugged. “I try to learn a new word as often as I can. It’s not much, but I feel smarter, even if I never use the word.”

“I thought it was cute.”

He chuckled, tracing his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re just trying to flatter me because I messed up.”

“No, I’m flattering you because you tried… and I missed you,” she said, squeezing his hand, the roughness of his skin comforting to her.

“God, I missed you more,” he whispered, eyes roaming over her face. “You really answered after all that time?”

“Yeah, of course. I knew you’d come back for me, eventually,” she smiled, burying the years of grief underneath the momentary gratification.

Her life since meeting and leaving Logan had been a probability. The numbers were infinite, the outcomes varied. She thought her psychology class would’ve been more rough on her mentally, but numbers didn’t lie.

Her calculus and statistics classes had been terrible – not just because she had to work twice as hard for a good grade in math classes, but because the problems so well translated to her life.

There were so many times that she could’ve died – so many times that she could’ve gone to prison for working with “criminals.” So many times that she jeopardized her future. And she was offered a way out, to start fresh.

But as many times as she tried to scare herself into feeling lucky and grateful for being steered back onto her path to success, she felt hollow. She had a one in a million chance of getting out of that life alive, but she had a one in a million chance of meeting Logan, too.

There were millions of people in Los Angeles County – she could’ve gone her whole life without knowing him, blissfully ignorant to the rough underbelly of the city she’d grown up in.

He changed her from the second he met her. Her probability split down the middle, branching into paths and subpaths, and multiple more until each move she made was critical. And the moment he left, she clung to him, despite the probabilities of them ever meeting again slimming more and more with each passing day.

He squirmed a bit, looking uncomfortable. She could tell that he was holding back. “Look, Raquel, I have to be completely honest with you, or it wouldn’t sit right with me. I know you haven’t seen me since you left for college, but… I’ve seen you.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, all of the jobs I’ve taken since leaving L.A. have been on the east coast, so I could stay close to you. To protect you.”

It shouldn’t have been music to her ears, but witnessing those words fall from his lips filled her soul with a sensation she could only describe as tranquility.

Her first year of college was riddled with depressive episodes, but the ensuing paranoia that came after she was reminded of The Brotherhood was even heavy, even more suffocating. She watched her back so much that her body was covered with bruises from the times she’d run into door frames, trash cans, people, sometimes causing her to trip and fall.

She was so unhealthily fixated on all of the possibilities and outcomes that she withdrew, not wanting to be the reason anyone close to her was harmed. She spent so long worrying that it nearly ruined her.

But hearing that he was always there, close enough to keep her safe, alleviated her, renewed her, replenished her. It nearly undid the hurt, minus a critical detail.

“Why didn’t you reach out to me?”

“I couldn’t… hurt you. The crews I ran with… it would’ve –” he cut himself off with a shake of his head, throwing back the bottle to finish it off.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Logan,” she whispered, watching his labored breathing, like he was so close to crumbling before her eyes.

“No, I can handle it. It just might take me a few tries to get it out,” he smiled weakly, gripping her hand, and she held firm, grounding him.

“Truthfully, I wanted to call you. You don’t know how many times I typed your number out and deleted it. I know your number by memory now.

“I was already here by the time you moved in. I’d been recruited by one of Teppei’s old friends, if you could call him that. He seemed like a great guy at first, but…” he trailed off, pained.

“It got really bad. This guy said he never worked with the same crew twice, and I thought since he kept calling me back that I was special.” He laughed curtly, the familiar look of brewing rage bubbling beneath the surface. “It was stupid, but each time he kept pushing me into doing more than I bargained for. I did a lot of things I couldn’t stomach, but by the time I realized what I was doing, I was already getting orders for the next job.”

He watched her hand on his, refusing to meet her eye.

“I always thought I’d dip when things got too rough, but I couldn’t give up being so close to you.”

“You didn’t run?”

“I told you I was tired of running,” he grinned, and it seemed alien on his gaunt face – like it’d been so long since he smiled he’d forgotten how to do it.

“So, what are you doing now, then?”

“Running.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, so deadpan, so pragmatic, that she knew not to pry. He was at rock bottom, and she was his only way out.

“What can I do?” she asked, no hesitation, ready to throw herself in the line of fire for him.

“I just need a ride to the used car lot on the other side of town. I have cash and someone there waiting to sell me one, so all I need is a ride.”

“You could’ve just called a cab or something, though. Why do you need me?” She prodded.

“I don’t know if you’re gonna like what I’m gonna say,” he hesitated, clearly torn.

“I can’t like or dislike it if you don’t tell me.”

He sighed. “Well, this might be the last time I can see you… for a while.”

“Can’t you just hide out and wait out till it’s safe? You can’t leave now, I just… I just got you back,” she choked, panicking and grieving all over again. 

“I have to. There’s a pretty hefty warrant out for me. And I’ve got people looking for me. I can’t drag you into that,” he said, solemn.

“No, you can get out, Logan, we just have to plan it out. We can beat this, we just have to try,” she whispered, vision blurring with tears.

“Hey, hey, Raquel, it’s okay, I’ve accepted it,” he soothed her, reaching out to stroke her face, swiping his thumb across the streaks of water the teardrops left behind. “I just wanted to see you before I left.”

“Logan, I can’t say goodbye again. I just got you back,” she repeated, the familiar sense of dread creeping in, her chest tight.

“I can’t. I’m in too deep.” And he left it at that.

He left a tip, and they walked to the car, hands intertwined. She wanted so badly to just talk – to catch up on the years he’d missed, to make him proud, but it wasn’t the time. There’d never be a time. Being together in that moment was precious, every minute counting.

She’d have to memorize every second; they would have to last her a lifetime.

“Do you want to drive?”

He chuckled in response, a spark of his old self coming back. “Nah, I’ll be doing enough of that. I really missed seeing you behind the wheel.”

They slipped onto the warm leather seats – the moist air left over from the rain had seeped into the atmosphere of the car. She cranked up the AC, sweat beading on the back of her neck.

She peeled out onto the gravel backroad, not knowing what to say next. Thankfully, he leaned forward to tap the volume knob, turning on the radio, but the soft hum of the engine drowned it out, white noise in their silence.

He slipped the dog tag from around his neck, ruffling his hair, and placed it on the neck of the rearview mirror. It dangled, catching the occasional light of the passing streetlight.

“Is that a new necklace?” she asked, watching it sway as she turned onto the ramp to merge onto the highway.

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird.”

“I think we’re past that.”

“After I gave you my last necklace, I wanted something of my own to remember you by, so I got this done,” he rotated the piece towards her.

“Troublemaker” and her phone number was carved into the metal, scratched and slightly rusty.

“Oh, Logan,” she breathed, gripping the steering wheel harder. She couldn’t tell him bye. She’d just gotten him back.

“I want you to keep it.”

“No, you need it to remember me by, like you said,” she forced through a sob, the composure she’d thought she’d had a grasp on crumbling with each syllable that fell from his lips.

“I don’t need it, Raquel.”

“If I take it it means that…” she couldn’t say it.

“That it could get ugly. And I might not ever come back for you.”

“I want you to, though, Logan. I’m so close to finishing college, and I’m going to start med school soon, and I’m gonna have a great job, and I can take care of us and I–” she cut herself off, crying, her body heaving.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, and was met with the calloused pads of his fingers on her jaw.

“I can’t do this without you.”

“You can. You’re way stronger than you think. I know you made it through some hard ass classes without anyone’s help,” he joked.

“You are too.”

“This isn’t about me anymore. It was never really about me,” he said, tracing a hand down her shoulder to rub the nape of her neck lovingly. “I know you never moved on. Hell, I didn’t really let you move on since I was secretly playing bodyguard for years. But this time I’m serious. You’ve gotta let me go, Troublemaker.”

“You know I’ll never do that,” she laughed feebly.

“You have to at least try. For me.”

She didn’t answer him. She pulled off of the highway, begging for the car to break down, for some divine intervention to happen to prove that they deserved to be together.

When she parked in the empty lot, the only light coming from her headlights and the flashing streetlight, he turned to her, a softness in his haggard appearance.

They stared at each other, drinking in every inch of their bodies. She wanted to remember him as bright, more vigorous, more alive.

And before she knew it, their lips were on one another’s, fervent and hungry. He smelled exactly the same, and she breathed him in, lacing her fingers in his hair, taking full advantage of their brief moment of solitude.

He parted his mouth, tasting her, groaning. They kissed over and over, reacquainting themselves. It morphed into her breaking down, yet again, kissing and embracing him over and over, trying desperately to reclaim the moment as healing. But she couldn’t see it that way, even as he whispered affirmations in her ear, reminding her of all of the things he loved about her.

The rain picked up again, tapping insistently against the windshield, setting a much more soothing ambiance than the situation called for.

Finally, she leaned back, so unwilling to part from the warmth of his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he breathed, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I need to hit the road so I can make it over the state border by sunrise.”

“Logan…” she whispered, begging. “I know we can make this work.” She sounded like a broken record, proposing empty ideas with no solutions. She knew there wasn’t a solution, but she preferred empty words to the stinging slap of the truth.

“I’m a fugitive. You’re going to be a doctor. I can’t compromise that. It’s selfish.”

“But I want you to be selfish,” she clasped his hands in hers, holding it to her chest. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s the problem, Troublemaker. I can’t let you do that,” he brought her hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles once, twice, before unlocking his door, and stepping out. “You were always too good for me, Raquel.”

He circled to the front of the car and smiled at her one last time, the tears in his eyes glimmering, reflecting the headlights. She watched the rain dot blotches all over his ratty tee, clinging to his form, and it made her wish she’d been able to see all of him. 

Then he turned, and walked further and further into the lot of cars, his form becoming hazy before disappearing completely. 

And she couldn’t stop him. 

Probability always won in the end – the numbers didn’t lie. She could’ve seen it coming from a mile away, but she didn’t want to see it.

She was paralyzed in fear, knowing that there was no way she could save him from the hell that’d engulfed him, but refusing to believe it.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

Cuddling with rain outside!

hmm hmm hmmm. less cuddling, more lore. day after dragging Christine out of the Sierra Madre, something something the explosions from the gala/breaking into the hotel worsened the toxic Cloud which fucked up the transportalponder fast-travel thingy. this DLC starts with you getting knocked out by sleeping gas in an abandoned bunker, and then (??? you get to Baja California somehow??? transportalponder from a different DLC???) and then a big super mutant drags you to the opening plaza. anyway this is assuming more of a background game knowledge than most of my regular readers have but two of you will be very hype about it i think. anyway here’s a lot of words

They were most of the way down the valley, moving out of the worst of the Cloud when the rain started. The rich and powerful had wanted a healthy buffer of several winding miles between them and all the other poor pre-War souls. 

They all ended up dead anyway, except for Domino. Hell was a better place than the Madre and she half wished the Courier had left him alive, if only to experience this fresh hell. The rain brought the Cloud back down on them, stripping the shine off stolen security armor. It left little itchy rivulets down bare skin. 

The Courier’s hands were starting to swell up as the super mutant wrenched a gatehouse open. Christine continued to do nothing but watch. The sedative the Courier jabbed her with did a real number- either it was frighteningly close to an overdose or she was sensitive to this kind. Or the Auto-Doc in the hotel wasn’t as effective as the one in the hospital, or it was programmed for a specific formula unique to Vera Keyes, or, or, or. She got lost in tracing through possibilities and flinched back when the Courier reached out and started unbuckling her outer armor. 

“Dry under armor in the sledge. Soak your hands.” 

“Am I still your hostage?” Vera’s voice was’t her voice, and her throat knew this.

The Courier wiggled Christine’s boots off. “Yes.”  

Christine gave herself imaginary points for not kicking her and said “I don’t want to be your hostage.” If that was the best she could come up with in this petulant new voice, maybe she deserved to be a hostage. Use your brain, Royce. 

She hated the Courier’s crooked grin. “Darling, the Madre doesn’t want you. If you want help getting somewhere once we get back to where I need to be, fine. I’ve got people waiting.”

Christine didn’t have people waiting. The Brotherhood would have marked her as KIA six months ago. She didn’t know how much longer Veronica would have waited. If she’d waited. 

The Courier continued, handing her dry clothes and a basin of water. “Brotherhood puts a lifetime of resources and specialized training into you for the kind of Circle mission you’re on and you’re going to throw it away trying to fight the Madre alone?”

“What do you know about the Circle?” How the fuck did this nobody Courier know about the internal affairs of a highly secretive group? Was this her own fault? Had she talked in her sleep? Veronica had never mentioned it if she had. 

The Courier shrugged. “I’m a courier. I go places.” Even with swollen hands, she made the vending machine slugs exactly as Christine had showed her, coaxed more water and hotplates out of a vending machine in the break room. Christine settled down into a sulky, exhausted lump and turned all the hot plates on to medium. 

She watched the Courier make some sort of awful brew from a little pouch of plant matter. “It took me most of a year to get anywhere near here. You’re going to keep a hostage all the way up to the Hub?” 

That fucking crooked grin again. “No, there’s a, uh, transporter thing? Vera had many secrets.”  She tossed the courtyard statue’s head in Christine’s lap.

“Does it...work?” Veronica would have screamed in glee at the mechanisms in this. Whatever this was. This was more complicated circuitry than she’d ever seen. 

“Not a fucking clue.” the Courier said comfortably. She made a little shove-over gesture and slotted herself up next to Christine, pulled a tastefully neutral hotel coverlet over their shoulders. 

Christine continued to find it difficult to maintain an appropriate level of rage and fell asleep, full of Dandy Boy apples. She woke up on the floor under more hotel blankets. The Courier had turned the hot plates down to low and put herself between Christine and the door. One arm over her ribs, the other supporting her head. 

Christine was ten yards back up the road with the Courier’s stupid fancy pistol before the Courier tackled her into the mud. “Absolutely fucking not,” and Christine went under again. 

[alecmagnuslwb]

Magic

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Three

Read on AO3

“So, this girl you’re taking me to see she’s got magic like you?” the kid Constantine just saved from certain death asks as they wait under a bus stop awning.

Constantine flicks open his lighter trying and failing to light the damp cigarette hanging from his lips. He stuffs his hand in his pocket pulling the pack out and trying to find one that isn’t soaked, but they’re all a lost cause. Briefly he considers using his magic to fix them, but he doesn’t want to risk lighting this awning on fire or something. His magic has been so haywire since Faust blasted him with something while protecting this kid he’s pretty sure any magic use will have the adverse effect of what he wants.

Which is why they’re waiting for a bus instead of him just casually portaling into Zatanna’s living room like he would any other day.

“Zatanna Zatara doesn’t just have magic, she is magic,” John says pulling the kid up by his jacket from where he’s slumped down into the seat. He pushes him toward the bus when it comes to a stop paying for them both and then guiding him to sit in the back.

John settles on one side, the kid disgruntledly sitting beside him.

“Sounds pretty fucking corny to me,” he grumbles crossing his arms and looking out the window away from John.

“Yeah, well once you meet a goddess you put some respect on her name,” Constantine says as he leans back in the seat keeping a watchful eye on the other people on the bus and their surroundings. It doesn’t feel likely that Faust followed them not after the last blast of decent magic Constantine hit him with, but he stays on alert.

The rest of the ride is quiet and John nudges the kid when the bus comes to halt at their stop a few blocks away from Zee’s place. They walk briskly, the rain slowing down a bit as they go.

He feels the wards around Zatara mansion shimmer across his skin as he passes through them then sees them go red at the edges when the kid passes through. He knocks three times in quick succession on the front door even though the red alert has already told her someone’s there.

Zee swings open the door her fighting face on, one hand already lit up with electricity that she quells as soon as she realizes it’s John.

“You’re wet,” she says reaching up her hand that was just electrified and brushing the damp hair from his eyes. The kid clears his throat from behind him and Zee takes note moving her hand down to grip at John’s lapel and leaning past him to look at the boy. “And you brought a teenager. He must be who set off my wards.”

“Yeah, I was minding my own business and caught Faust trying to kill him, targeting him specifically. Thought I’d be nice and save him,” he explains feigning disinterest. He reaches up to circle his fingers around her wrist. “That’s why I’m here.”

“That’s the only reason, huh?” she smiles stepping back causing his hand to drop and gestures for them both to come inside.

“Kcol eht rood, nehtgnerts the wards,” she says the door slamming closed and locking tightly. She raises up her hands a wave of warm blue light coming from here fingers. John feels the wards increase in strength. She reaches over touching his neck tenderly and placing her other hand on the kids’ shoulder. “Emoclew meht ni.”

John feels the warm familiar rush of Zee’s magic flowing through his veins as a wave of magic washes over the property, he absolutely loves it. The kid however jumps back.

“What the hell was that?” he says making a face.

“Keying you into the wards so they don’t recognize you as an enemy again, John just needed an upgrade,” she smiles patting him on the cheek and stepping back.

“So you’re the magical goddess, huh?” the kid says eyeing her up and down. He’s no older than 17 so John can understand why his eyes linger a little too long on her fishnets, John’s have plenty of times over the years, but he puts a stop to it walking over and tapping him under the chin.

“Eye’s up,” he says with a scowl. “Remember what I said about respect.”

Zatanna just laughs.

“You told him I’m a goddess?” she teases her nose squishing up with a cute little smile.

Constantine is absolutely endeared, but he has an image to uphold in front this kid so he just smirks.

“Oh, hush,” he says brushing it off. She knows him better though, winking at him once and smiling. She turns crossing her arms and looking at the kid.

“Alright,” she pauses leaving him room to give his name. The kid just bristles. She looks at John with a raised eyebrow in question and he just shrugs. He tried to get a name out of him when they first met not even a two hours ago and came up empty handed.

“Look, I get you’re scared and you don’t know why what happened to you tonight happened, but we can’t figure out why it did if we don’t even know who you are,” she says meeting the boy’s eyes with a gentle smile. “You’re safe here.”

The kid hesitates for a moment before answering her. Amongst the many things that make Zatanna magic is the way people just feel at ease with her in mere seconds.

“David Simpson.”

Zatanna looks back at John.

“Any relation to Richie?” she asks and the kid shrugs.

“I don’t know any of my family, it was just me and mom for a long time and then she died and that’s that,” he says looking down at his feet. Zatanna and John give him matching sad smiles it’s probably better he doesn’t see.

“Okay, well David there’s food in the fridge,” she says gesturing towards the kitchen. “Take whatever you want and we’ll start figuring out why Faust is after you soon.”

The kid nods and lets out a quiet thanks as he rushes into the kitchen.

“If he’s connected to Richie somehow and he got some kid involved in some dumb shit he’s pulling,” John starts as Zatanna steps into his space.

“I know and we’ll figure it out,” she says softly. “First things first I need to take a look at you,” she says before whispering a quiet spell under her breath and hovering her hands over him.

“I’m fine Zee, we need to focus on the kid,” he says trying to brush her hands away, the mask of indifference falling away now that they’re alone.

“Nobody can get to him here,” she says giving him a stern look that stops his protests dead in their tracks. “And you’re not fine. You feel weird.”

John scoffs, “Well, that’s what every guy wants to hear from his lady.”

Zatanna rolls her eyes whether it’s over the audible scoff, the comment, his attempt to deflect her concern or all three he’s not sure. She keeps hovering her hands over him, her magic moving across his skin and into his bones, faintly he hears the sound of the microwave starting up in the kitchen.

“Faust hit you with a pretty hard blast of some sort of magic scrambling spell,” she says not really looking for him to respond just thinking out loud. She hums in thought for a moment before her hand stops directly over where the tattoo on his chest that she has the twin of on her own lies under his shirt.

“Teser,” she says slowly closing her eyes and focusing her energy on their connection. Another wave bursts through him this time even stronger as he feels his magic coming online again no longer feeling like an annoying, itchy hum under his skin like it has since the fight, but like the fiery burn it always is flickering just right under his fingertips.

“Thanks, luv,” he says when she opens her eyes leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. The magic around them settles, it wasn’t an understatement when he told David that Zee doesn’t just do magic, she is magic; the proof is there every time he’s around her, under his skin and in these walls. From the kitchen he hears the toaster pop this time, clearly David is taking full advantage of Zee’s whatever you want statement.

“No problem,” she says patting him on the chest. Her soft smile morphs into a wicked smirk. “Now, want to go summon Richie against his will and kick his ass if we have to?”

John smirks right back, “Absolutely.”

[szopenhauer]

it seems that the average survey-taker is a white american female, aged 15-19, who has a car, a cell phone, and an extensive social circle. is this true for you? I’m a white female but not from America and I’m much older, have no car nor friends, just cellphone

have you seen any silent films? I love Buster Keaton 

would you rather be an actor, director, or soundtrack producer? actress and director

have you seen nbc’s ‘hannibal’? thoughts? (if you haven’t, do you want to?) no and don’t want to, yuk

on websites where you’re permitted to change your username, do you do so often, or do you keep the same one for long periods of time? I usually change after a few months

does your computer have a name?  I didn’t call this annoying piece of shit anyhow but maybe if I had a better computer...

are you eager to see how far science + technology will advance, or do you prefer an older way of doing things? do you think we are better off with these advancements, or not? I wish we had choice, I would like the world to be balanced, a bit of this and a bit of that, some advancements are necessary, some are cool but some are awful

what is your favourite comic book or graphic novel? does your favourite novel come in comic-book form? (if not, would you like it to?) I don’t read comics but from those I ever tried my fav manga was Doubt, webcomic (those I saw several but I forgot most of the titles by now) - Lackadaisy and I am fan of Aldebaran and Betelgeza 

Any friends who are constantly venting about their boyfriend?: it was common - me listening complains about my crush’es exes or current boyfriends/lovers/crushes

Have you ever been ice-skating?: once, in high school, didn’t like it

Does the sound of rain at night help you sleep?: yeah

Did the end of Public Enemies make you sad?: I didn’t finish the movie

Do you obsessively apply lip-gloss or lip balm?: ewww, not at all

Do you think you’d have what it takes to shoot someone if you had to protect yourself?: I believe

What’s your most noticeable flaw?: ugh...

Have you ever walked into a massive cobweb? yes and that was awful because it was full of dead bugs

When you can tell that someone’s lying, do you call them out on it?: often

How many other blogs do you follow on Tumblr?: more than 300 

Does it ever scare you how fast time can go by?: could say so

Have you ever replied “OK” when someone confessed they liked you?: possibly :x

What does your grandma call you?: sigh...

What would you do for immortality and infinite youth?: dunno, definitely wouldn’t sell my soul or kill an innocent person but I would do some stuff for immortality 

Would you rather have a pool or a hot tub?: neither

Have you ever worn a nipple tassel?: haven’t

Ever played hide and seek in the woods on horseback at night?: wow, that’s weirdly specific and now I want this somehow :o

Have you ever held a baby chick?: wild bird’s babies and I regret that because it’s not helfpul for them actually

Do you think wine tastes like rotten fruit? yep

Have you ever felt the need to hide something about yourself?: sometimes, from certain people, I should be myself most of the time tho

Do you think pearls are attractive?: umm...

Have you ever wished you had a different name? Which name would you choose? but I like male ones more or non polish

Have you ever customised an item of clothing? I designed and my mom helped me, made changes for me

Do you prefer drawing or painting?  prefer to draw but look at paintings

Are you saving up for anything right now? What? if I could/had money to save then I would save for a bike, laptop, my own apartment etc.

Do you own any figurines?  cats, dogs, elephants, clowns, horses and others

If you have any siblings, how much rivalry is between you all? it’s complicated

When did you last have itchy eyes? recently

Is it dark outside right now? it’s getting darker 

Do you prefer framed photos or just sticking photos straight onto walls? I prefer them in an album, takes less space 

What’s your favourite type of cake? used to love sękacz the most

Have you ever woken up from a dream and believed it to have been real? I was confused 

If there’s a bug in your room, can you sleep or do you need to get it out? it depends on how annoying/dangerous it is

Do you prefer travelling alone or with people? I like to travel with my dad

What was the last baby animal you saw? pic or irl?

Do you give people high fives or hugs more often? hugs

How long have you known the last person you kissed? I knew her 10 years ago for awhile then we lost contact until this spring

When angry, do you get loud or quiet? depends

What do you currently hear right now? my parents talking

Who of the opposite sex has seen you at your worst? dad

Last person you saw? parent

Did you have a nap today? nope

Are you easy to get along with? am not

When was the last time you were told you were cute? recently my gf called me cute and I’m like Catra about it

Have you ever forgotten to put on an oven mitt before you took something extremely hot out of the oven? not over, just hot pot

Do you own one of those airwick things that automatically sprays every few minutes? hell no

How many light bulbs are on in the room you are currently in? 3, one doesn’t work 

Have you ever had your phone taken away at school before? almost, teacher heard it calling but before they found out who’s phone that was it stopped ringing and I was safe

Do you look better with or without glasses? I’m always ugly 

What is your favorite type of bird? chicken, owl, flamingo, crow, barn swallow...

Did you go fishing a lot when you were younger? Do you now? I hate fishing, never been nor will go

Do you like more flowery scents or more clean scents? no scents, thank you Do you own a manual or electric toothbrush? manual, electric are horrible Preferred brand of toothpaste? m current is Meridol  Piece of make-up you cannot live without? I can live without it

Do you prefer heels or flats? flats are more comfy but I know how to walk in heels, just don’t like to

Do you eat meat? yep Do you still watch cartoons regularly? I recently started watching She-ra with my gf but before that I didn’t watch any animated shows for a long time (just fragments/episodes maybe) Do you leave the TV on and sleep to it? never Ever considered cannibalism? r u serious?... this is scary, I’m gonna puke :x Ever licked a battery? I’m not stupid What does your name mean? lily which was also going to be my name Do animals go to Heaven? hope so Babies are… irritating

When was the last time you saw a doctor? it would be easier to say when I didn’t because I see them too often Do you know anyone who is a firefighter? used to What was the last wedding you went to? my sister’s

What’s your favourite alcoholic beverage? blergh... Do you “binge-watch” tv shows? two episodes a day max What is your opinion of clowns? love Did you wear a necklace today? not today How old are your parents? about 60 What’s something odd you do when you’re anxious or nervous? personal Have you ever received a compliment from a stranger? I have, more than one time Is your wardrobe big enough for all your clothes? it’s not Do you plan ahead when it comes to your outfits? nah Have you ever shaved your face? I shaved my eyebrows (not whole)  What colour is your front door? silver with white paint coming off  Do you take the stairs or the elevator? stairs  Would you ever try herbal medicine as opposed to conventional medicine? I tried  Do you wear open-toed shoes? I despise those Have you ever been to a petting zoo? yeah, I was petting a raccoon <3 and chinchillas are so surprisingly fluffy  When was the last time you wore a button up shirt? weeks ago How many times have you consumed alcohol? once Do you often forget what you were just about to say? ocassionally when interrupted What’s your opinion of Australia? wouldn’t go there Do you own any striped sweaters? absolutely :) Have there ever been any forest or grass fires in your area? as every summer, also trash burn quite often

What color is the trash can in your kitchen? yellow What does the cover on the last book you read look like? it has two people sitting in front of each other Do you wear green on St. Patrick’s Day? I don’t celebrate this holiday, I dislike it Are you even Irish? not even partially Have you ever gotten a wig? What did it look like and what was it for? I have a bunch of wigs  How often do you use a shower cap? What does yours look like? I don’t own any If you wanted to get a cat, would you adopt from a shelter or buy from a breeder? Why? but I don’t want a cat What’s the shortest you’d be willing to cut your hair? almost bald? What do you do when you find a spiderweb in your room? leave it be or clean it

[the-foxes-fangs]

I Wish I Was the Moon: Epilogue Pt. 2

Read the main fic and interludes at a03 

Tagging the lovely @otomediary, @you-mass-effect-my-dragon-age, @louveau, and @wingedtreecookiesludge 

                                       ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The ride to Echigo had been pleasant, she was in buoyant spirits despite the muddy road and chilly mornings of the early spring, but he felt the anxiety in her back and shoulders as they gained on Kasugayama. 

“Cold feet so soon, little mouse?” He asked teasingly, holding her close with one arm wrapped around her waist and the reins loose in his free hand. 

“About you? Not one bit. About Kenshin? Well...” She answered, trailing off apprehensively. “The last time I saw him he did put his sword to my throat. I’m not completely sure he’s the best choice for a potential father-in-law. Ieyasu might have been a better option, after all.” 

The sky was a mass of pewter clouds that rolled on into a bank of mist, obscuring the mountains and the horizon and threatened to soak them, but all he could feel was the warmth of her against him and some stray strands of her hair tickling his face when he kissed the top of her head. 

“Let’s not be hasty my dear, could you really look Ieyasu in the eye at our wedding banquet and call him ‘father’? I think he would expire right then and there of the indignity,” He said with a low laugh that she answered with one of her own. 

“Good point, there’s no way I could do that with a straight face.” She said and laughed again. “Still, Kenshin is unpredictable. I’d rather our wedding not become a war zone if we can avoid it.” 

He urged the horse onward as the crested the last hill between them and the castle town, and a misty rain began to fall. 

“He’s got a code of honor as rigid as his sword, whatever else you might find to say about him.” Mitsuhide answered lightly. 

“Oho--” she said with a derisive snort “So that’s the game. Don’t get overconfident though, Sasuke tells me that Shingen is pretty slick, and Kenshin kept up with him all those years.” 

“Ah but Shingen is a tiger! What dragon ever noticed a fox running circles around his feet?” He asked, pulling her coat tighter around her against the wet chill. 

“I defer to your judgement on this one, with reservations.” She said, and blew out a soft sigh. 

They made it to the castle as the rain began to beat down in earnest, tearing the new leaves off of the trees and plastering his hair to his forehead. He slid out of the saddle and caught her, blowing on her frigid fingers to warm them as the guard opened the gates for them. He ignored their prying eyes and held her tightly, kissing her deeply enough to make her breath hitch, though not nearly enough to satisfy either of them. 

Kenshin was standing under the eaves looking like an ice sculpture as usual, with a disapproving Sasuke by his side.

Yoshimoto stood gracefully in a doorway and looked them over with elegant amusement on his delicate face.  

“Welcome. It’s a shame that you arrive accompanied by a snake.” Kenshin said coldly, but reached out to take her hands so gently it looked as if he expected her to shatter. 

“Well, it is a breath of fresh air to see you.” Sasuke said happily, with what passed for a smile as he greeted her. 

“We come as a set, I’m afraid.” She said and offered him a gracious bow. 

"Why, that’s no way to talk about your soon to be son-in-law.” Mitsuhide interjected airily, with a jaunty bow that earned him a scowl and snort in reply.

 “You just don’t know when to quit, do you? It’s like the man said-- you’d face god and walk backward into hell.” Sasuke muttered by way of greeting, shaking his head. 

“You do have such a quaint way with a turn of phrase, squirrel.” Mitsuhide replied with a wink. 

“I was making fun of you.” Sasuke answered and gestured at her, laughing demurely behind her sleeve. 

“Enough pointless chatter.” Kenshin cut in, gesturing for them to follow as he turned toward the shadowy interior of the castle. They filed inside, Kenshin at the lead, and in spite of confidence, he stayed close to her side. 

“The lady is looking a bit like a little drowned mouse, and I’d like to get dried off myself before we begin the formalities, if you don’t mind showing us to our quarters.” Mitsuhide said as they paused at the door to the audience hall. 

“Someone ought to have beaten a polite tongue into your head long ago, Akechi, and when the lady is my daughter, I just might.” Kenshin snarled at him, ice in his face and tone. 

“A term of endearment, I assure you.” Mitsuhide answered, palms up placatingly. 

“Show her to her room.” Kenshin said to Sasuke, and then turned to look him up and down with withering contempt. “You’ll be in the house with the other single men.” He said with a flash in his sharp eyes that brooked no argument. 

“Very well, my lord.” Mitsuhide said, hiding his rising irritation despite having been prepared for exactly this sort of treatment. 

“Wait, I--” she began to object, only to catch his eye and the faint shake of his head, “uh, I wanted to thank you for your generous hospitality and kindness.” 

She bowed again and gave him a questioning glance before she turned to follow Sasuke around a corner. 

“What an absolutely lovely woman.” Yoshimoto said with a gentle wave of his fan as he watched them leave.

“Isn’t she just? A woman you’d do anything for.” Mitsuhide replied with acid in his voice. 

“Is that right? But you were always capable of stooping to any low, so that’s a bit of an insult to the lady, don’t you think?” Yoshimoto said smoothly, fanning himself gracefully. 

A retainer who had been summoned to show him to the barracks stood watching the scene with wide eyes. 

Kenshin looked between them and curled his lip. “Settle it with your blades or shut up. You both bore me, all talk and no blood.” 

“Well I’d hate to be boring, heaven knows.” Mitsuhide answered him, and bowed crisply. “If you’ll excuse me, my lords.” 

He nodded at the retainer and followed him down the hall. 

                                               ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“So you’re absolutely sure it’s too late for me to dissuade you from marrying Mitsuhide?” Sasuke asked, handing her a cup of tea. 

The room that had been prepared for her was almost stifling in its opulent beauty, books and scrolls, paintings, flowers, even an elaborately made sewing kit and bolts of conspicuously bright fabrics of the sort a young unmarried woman would wear, giving the impression of an overcrowded birdcage. 

It was warm but not warm enough to chase away the chill of his absence, of the warmth of his lips on hers that she longed for to drive her fears away, his low teasing laugh that made it all seem like it wasn’t worth worrying over in the first place. 

“Sasuke, you cannot be seriously asking that after you helped engineer such a beautiful reunion and proposal.” She answered, and sipped her tea, her hair wrapped in a warm towel.

“Against my will! Let the record stand that it was 99.9% against my will!” He answered, adjusting his glasses primly. 

“It’s that last fraction that counts.” She answered and patted his hand soothingly. “I see you haven’t lost your taste for outdated memes.” She added with a snicker. 

“Absurd situations call for absurd references.” He replied, but there was brotherly warmth in his eyes. “You do look as happy as I’ve ever seen you. I don’t know how you live with him, but you look well.” 

“I could say the same for you and Kenshin. Is he still threatening to kill you three times a day?” 

“It was actually up to six for awhile, but we’ve settled at an average of two, so I think he’s forgiving me.” 

“I’ve got to admit, I was surprised that you suggested this to Mitsuhide. It’s not like they particularly like each other.”  She said, nibbling on one of the beautiful sweets that had been prepared for her. 

Sasuke’s eyes flashed behind his glasses, and he crossed his arms firmly. “I absolutely could not allow him to torture Ieyasu. Kenshin is the only one who stands any chance of keeping that man in line, the way I see it. And they both love you, so there’s some common ground.” 

She nearly spat her tea, sputtering and coughing until tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry did you--” she coughed hard, “did you just say Kenshin loves me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have been more exact in my phrasing--” Sasuke said, slapping her back as she finished coughing, “he’s not in love with you, but you impressed him as much as I’ve ever seen anyone impress him that day, and I think it’s fair to say he loves you in his own specifically Kenshin way.” 

“Thanks, Sasuke, psych 101 just bubbled up from the depths of my mostly drunken freshmen memories and took me on quite the ride there for a minute.” She said, waving him back to his seat across from her as she composed herself. 

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to cause you to revisit your brief but passionate affair with Tequila in such an unfortunate way.” He replied, deadpan. 

“I forgive you, just let Mitsuhide be the one who surprises me, if possible. So you think this will all go off without a hitch?” 

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and swept the hair out of his face. “I thought a hitch, as in getting hitched was the whole point.” 

“That was an appalling pun. Wretched. Unforgivable.” She said and they both broke out into peals of laughter. 

“Speaking seriously, I think that as long as Mitsuhide can avoid antagonizing Kenshin, everything will be fine.” 

“Oh, is that all? Well when you put it that way.” She shot back with a shake of her head. “Please be a pal and tell Mitsuhide where to find me, he gets an itchy trigger finger when he sleeps alone.” 

“Now that’s a euphemism.” Sasuke said with his voice caught between admiration and horror. 

“Oh, good lord, Sasuke, that’s not what I meant! Seriously, though, I’m sneaking out to see him if he doesn’t get here first.” She said, drumming her fingers on the table nervously. 

“As much as I’d like to be of assistance, I have to, with the greatest affection, ask you not to be as much of a reckless idiot as usual.” Sasuke shot back, and held up his finger. “No sneaking out. No creeping through the halls, and don’t even think about trying to get through the ceilings, I see what you’re looking at.” 

“But--” she began, only to be stopped by a vigorous shake of his head.

“I mean it. Nothing that would alert the guards. As of now, you’re officially visiting the family, and unlike a trip to stay with cool uncle Nobunaga, someone will be disinherited of his head if you don’t exercise the utmost discretion. Mitsuhide knows it, that’s why he didn’t argue.”

“Oh, fine.” She replied moodily. “I feel like I’m shut up in a dungeon. A very nice dungeon.” 

“Please don’t give Kenshin any ideas, he’s got his own very weird ways of showing his affection.” Sasuke said with a pained look. “Just try to enjoy the party tonight, and see if you can get the two of them talking... I don’t know, tactics or weapons or something.” 

“I’m no diplomat, but I’ll do my best.” She answered with a sigh. 

[hurt-care]

Okay, look, I’ve had this idea for AGES and I’ve finally written it. It’s not 18+ explicitly because of sexual content, but because it involves cannabis. So, proceed at your own discretion I guess? 

Remus/Tonks, allergies

-

Everything ached.From the balls of his feet up to the hairs of his head, every centimetre of Remus' body felt hyper-sensitive. The prospect of getting up from his seat at the kitchen table was daunting, but the soft embrace of the living room sofa was much more appealing.

Pushing down on the table with his palms, he rose to his feet with a wince and took a moment to tilt his head from side to side, stretching the tight muscles of his neck. This was always the worst part of the moon; the recovery day after. Sometimes he didn't bother getting out of bed, but that always felt like the height of laziness. So usually he pushed through it, suffering the fire-hot nerve endings of his body burning in pain as they recovered from the full moon.

His wife, Nymphadora Tonks, looked up as he hobbled out of the kitchen into the living room. She sprang to her feet, nearly tumbling head-first over the coffee table in her haste to vacate the couch.

“Hello, love!” she said cheerfully, regaining her balance. “It's all yours. I was just warming it up for you.”

He gave her a wan smile and sunk slowly down into the cushions, breathing heavily. Cautiously, she sat back down at his side and extended a hand, gently raking in through his sandy greying hair.

“How are you?” she asked softly.

He shrugged and leaned his head back.

“Sore,” he admitted. “Nauseous. Achy.”

They'd made an agreement that he'd be more transparent about the transformation side effects. He'd become so accustomed to hiding them from people that it had been difficult to acclimate to being open about it. It'd been well over a decade since he'd lived with anyone that knew about his condition. It was a little different than school because of his access to Wolfsbane, but the physical pain of the transformation remained much the same. And with age came a longer recovery time as his muscles and tendons bore the strain of thirty-odd years of monthly injury.

“You can lie down if you'd like,” Tonks said softly.

He exhaled through his nose loudly.

“No, I'm alright,” he said.

Her mouth twisted into a slight frown.

“Do you want some of that muscle rub?”

“No, Dora, it's okay. I just want to sit here with you.”

She lowered her hand from his hair and gently rubbed his neck, gradually increasing the pressure on the tight muscles. He groaned softly but did not shy away.

“Have you ever smoked a spliff?” she asked, pausing on a particularly tender spot on his shoulder.

Remus laughed softly.

“I'm a child of the 60s and 70s, Tonks. Once or twice in my life.”

“I mean, have you ever tried it for pain? Like, it's pretty popular with Muggles now and my mate Archie at the Ministry swears by it for an old spell injury.”

“Mostly I ate a lot of Sirius Black's potent brownies and listened to records,” he said, closing his eyes as she kneaded her knuckles into a knot.

“Yeah, but shit's changed a lot since then. They've figured out how to grow stuff that's helpful for pain specifically.”

“Then, no,” he said. “It's probably been fifteen years since I have. Couldn't afford it on my own and no one I was hanging about with was giving it as a handout.”

“If I had some from Archie...would you try it?” she asked.

He opened one eye and peered at her, twisting his mouth into a judgemental smirk.

“Are you doing drug deals at the Ministry, Auror Tonks?”

She batted his arm lightly.

“It's medicinal.”

“And is this an 'if' you had some or 'I do have some'?” he asked.

“There may be a spliff in my bag,” she said with a laugh.

He shrugged.

“I mean, what's the worst that could happen? I get the giggles and eat a bunch of food and then pass out. A normal Tuesday with you.”

She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.

“Good. I bet it'll help. Archie said it's great for nausea and headaches.”

“Check and check.”

Tonks flicked her wand and summoned her satchel from the front hall. It zoomed over to her and she missed catching it, sending it flying into the couch cushions at her side. Remus snorted in amusement.

“Shut up,” she scolded playfully. “Aren't you meant to be moaning in pain or something?”

“I am positively in agony,” he said dramatically. It was an exaggeration, certainly, but not entirely removed from the truth. His lower back and hips were aching with a dull, pounding rhythm that no heat or pain potion seemed to truly remove. And these days, he tried to avoid using pain potions. Partially because of the cost of them and partially because he didn't want to rely on them and then find himself without them again someday.

Tonks found the small hand-rolled joint in her bag and pulled it out triumphantly.

“Ha! The goods, Lupin,” she said, presenting it to him.

He took it and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose. A small tickle burned with a sudden urgency and he took a sharp breath.

Ngh'TSXHT!

“Ow,” he said after the sneeze, clutching his side.

“Bless you,” she said sympathetically. “It's meant for smoking, not smelling.”

With a tap of her wand, she lit the end and took a long drag. Exhaling smoke from her nose with practiced ease, she grinned at him and passed the spliff over.

He took it to his lips and inhaled tentatively, careful not to take in too much smoke in fear of starting a coughing fit. He exhaled slowly, tasting the old familiar flavour in his mouth and feeling the tingle of his throat and sinuses as the smoke drifted back out.

“Again,” Tonks instructed and he took another drag, harder and longer this time.

His nose was burning urgently now and he felt his eyes begin to water.

“You're going red,” Tonks said, giggling.

Ehh-TSCHXHT!

Remus sneezed urgently, shielding his nose with the back of his wrist.

“Ugh, fuck,” he groaned, rubbing his nose with his palm.

Ngh'tSCHHT!

Tonks carefully took the joint from his grasp and extinguished it.

“Remus?” she said, worried.

Ehh—nhh-TSGHHT!

His eyes were starting to swell and stream with tears.

“What the hell?” she said, leaning over to the end table to grab the box of tissues. “Here.”

She shoved a handful into his grip and he pressed them to his nose in time to catch another sneeze.

Ehh-GSHHHT!

He kept the tissues clamped to his nose and his itchy eyes shut.

“Remus?” she repeated, reaching over to push his hair out of his face. “Had this happened before?”

“No,” he growled from tissues. “But...hehh—hold on—ehh—ehh'tSGHHT!”

He erupted into an itchy fit of sneezes that tumbled out with frightening speed.

Eh-TSCH! TsgHGHHT! Ngh'TSCHH! TS'CHHTT! Ehhh..hehhTSGHHT!

Tonks watched in horror and then stumbled to her feet.

“Hold on, I'm going to find you an allergy potion.”

He sat on the couch battling the burning itch that threatened more sneezing while Tonks rattled through the medicine chest. There as a loud crash as she evidently dropped a potion bottle, followed by the sound of her cursing and then repairing it with magic. She reappeared a moment later with a bottle in hand.

“Here we go,” she said, sitting back at his side. He tentatively removed the tissues from his face and sniffled damply.

“Just a sip,” she instructed, tipping the bottle to his lips. He took a greedy swig, eager to soothe his itchy and parched throat.

“There,” she said, corking the bottle with its stopper. “It should only be a moment.”

As quickly as the attack came on, it began to fade. The redness in his eyes faded and the swelling of his nose and eyelids lessened.

Utterly exhausted, Remus keeled over sideways with his head landing on her lap and his legs stretching out along the rest of the sofa. She raked her fingers through his hair and muttered endless apologies.

“I didn't have any idea anyone could be allergic to a spliff,” she said. “I mean, I would have never...you just started sneezing and I was like 'oh my god his poor muscles' and then it kept going and-”

“Tonks,” he rasped, cutting her off. “It's okay. Please.”

“But-”

“You were trying to help. I should've realized that I'm much more sensitive to smells around this time. Sirius smoking cigarettes in the house back in the day used to set me off the same way. And then there's the hayfever...Christ, that's the worst.”

“I'm so sorry, love,” she said, leaning over to kiss the top of his head where it rested in her lap. “Feel better now?”

“Almost,” he said. “Still just a bit itch—hehh....ehh-TSCHHT!”

He shook suddenly in her lap, convulsing with a sneeze.

“Oh Merlin, bless you,” she cried, taking a tissue and dabbing at his nose.

He laughed softly.

“It's alright,” he reassured her. “I do feel a little...I don't know...looser maybe? Next time we'll try making brownies instead. I think Sirius had the right idea.”

She stroked his cheek affectionately.

“Alright. Go to sleep, love.”

He closed his eyes, drifting off as she massaged circles into his scalp.

[dothewrite]

hellow! would you be able to do a scenario with oikawa and his s/o catches him late at night practicing volleyball (honestly i find guys that have ambition and just wanting to improve so hot anyway moving on) and his s/o can obviously see he's tired as hell so just as he practices his serve and it bounces to the floor she picks it up and steals it from him and he tries to get it back from her but she just cutely runs away with it and cute events ensue and he realizes how damn in love with her he

There might have been a slight time gap in-between writing the first and second part. Hopefully it doesn’t show too much. Hopefully it also doesn’t show my breakneck writing speed near the end either. Hopefully, you enjoy this!

It’s a Tuesday, just passed eight thirty.Or it should be, since the last time Oikawa checked the plastic clock in thechanging rooms was when the sun was still up. Now, he can barely see the skybehind the slim window slits that surround the edges of Seijou’s gym, and whateverlight there was had long shifted away from the wisps of clouds.

Without a watch and without the gym’sdigital timer switched on, he’s learned to trust the biological clock thatticks with each routine practice he works on day after day. His muscles screamat him with varying degrees of desperation during very specific intervals ofhis solo practice, giving him a decent idea of how much further he still has togo. A slightly masochistic way of timekeeping, but pain has never beeneffective in holding him back.

Oikawa tosses the ball between his hands,letting it slap his calloused palms in penitence. Penitence that he can take—must take—and he lets the sear of hishamstrings stretch along his bare bones with each fold of his knees. For him,it’s better this way. With the pain, he can measure how much he’s giving up forexcellence, for the image of himself that seems to drift farther when hehimself takes a step forward.

He’s glad for the sliver of air that theopen doors breathe in; it’s his only reprieve. Otherwise, his eyes would be farworse off than simply stinging from the stream of sweat that pours down fromhis forehead. He flicks his tongue up to lick the stale saltiness pooled abovehis lips, and squints past the rawness of his eyelids.

Justone more set. One more.

His eyes narrow and he watches the spotthat he’s aiming towards with such focus, as if it would shift underneath hisfeet and disappear. Oikawa crouches, feeling the tension pull his body taught andarches into it. And then he leaps, feeling the floor kissing his heels goodbyeand he’s up in the air; he draws his arm back as far as it can take and smashesit into the volleyball.

It hurtles forward with an electric joltand lands centimetres away from its destined spot.

The resounding smack echoes through thegym, and he feels it thrumming in his head, the blood rushing from his chestinto his ears, and the throbbing soreness his palm suffers.

He lifts a wrist to rub away the beads of sweatthat trickle into his eyes, stinging them into tears.

“Phew, that was a scary serve.”

For a moment he doesn’t realize that it’ssomeone talking until, he does, andOikawa has to blink hard twice to rid the fuzziness in his vision. Where themystery voice came from stands a familiar face, almost as if materialized outof mid-air, with her small hands wrapped around the ball that appearsunnaturally large. He watches her watch him with curious, surveying eyes.

“You aren’t picturing anyone when you hitit, are you?”

Oikawa breaks into a smile that looks alot more tired than he feels. “No, not particularly.”

“Well, I’m glad you aren’t, and glad it’snot me.” She tosses the ball up experimentally, and her hands sink when itlands in her palms. “You know, I expected this to be lighter.”

“Is that so? Volleyball players’ musclesare just for show, then?”

Her eyes sparkle with a worrying mischief.“Would that be so bad?”

“Not if it’s working,” he answers, andwatches her struggle to hide the sudden flush to her cheeks.

Their coach had locked up the rest of the ballsearly this afternoon, so the only one that Oikawa’s left with is the onesitting snugly in her hands like an overinflated balloon. It’s too big comparedto her tiny height, and he sees her curl unconsciously around it, protectively,like a pet. It does look rather comfortable there, and now he’s definitelydistracted.

It isalmost nine, he reasons with himself, he’s more or less earned the right to bedistracted.

Still, his fingers twitch restlesslyagainst his sides, strained with the pent-up energy it had borrowed from thesharp smacking pain against the volleyball. There isn’t nearly enough ache inhis thighs, his knees are still propping him up just fine, and the voice thatcurls up the length of his arms hiss at him: it wasn’t high enough. Not fast enough. Not good enough.

Oikawa steps forwards to beckon for theball before he notices himself moving. He couldn’t know what expression he wasmaking, too exhausted for restraint, but she had been watching with those hawkeyes of hers behind those glasses and she takes a step back in response. Theball presses tighter against her ribcage, and she half-turns away to protect it—orto protect him from it, most likely.

“You’re tired,” she says softly. Shedoesn’t want to scare him away quite yet. “Your mom texted me to ask if you’regoing to be back in time for dinner.”

Oikawa tilts his head, puzzled. “Theyhaven’t eaten yet? It’s nine.”

“Oh, Tooru. You know they always wait foryou if they can.”

“Oh. Well, I,” he begins, but he loses thewords before he finds them. He frowns instead. “I turn my phone on silent whenI practice.”

She wisely chooses to say nothing in response,but her eyes are thoughtful and her grip on the volleyball tightens. Shewatches quietly as Oikawa seems to pull himself out of the safe he keepseverything non-sport related in, the heat in his face cooling down as his mind’sunending gears roll to a slow halt. The soreness seems to intensify, and whathad been a bearable discomfort grows into a more human burn that he usually getsthe day after an intense work out.

“Is it starting to hurt?” She calls fromacross the court. He can’t help but think she sounds rather cheery about it.

He shakes his head, and at that, even hisneck seems to cry out.

“Yeah. I must’ve pushed harder thanusual.”

“Hmmm. Can you still walk?”

Now, Oikawa was tired, not dead. And mostcertainly not stupid. With his itchy and probably reddened eyes, he peers ather. Her fingers tap against the ball as they always do when she’s thinkingsomething. Calculating.

“Yeees,” he says slowly. “I believe I canstill walk faster than you.”

“Is that so?”

He draws in a deep breath. “That is so.”

“Okay.” She breaks into a roguish grin. “Okay.So, let’s see how fast you can really walk, then, Captain.”

Before he can spit out something smart tohold her back, she whips around with his one and only ball cradled like a babyagainst her chest and sprints out of the small crack between the open doors.It’s a foul—definitely a bloody foul—and Oikawa almost trips over his own feetthe first few steps he takes in pursuit. It takes all the hurried steps betweenthe middle of the court (which he doespause and turn off all the lights and switches to before locking up, because he’snot a complete barbarian) to the small crossroads in front of the school gates forhim to catch a glimpse of her figure, weaving in and out of a line of cherryblossoms planted beside the school walls.

Oikawa takes a second to gather his breathand check his shoelaces in case he ends up tripping over himself and possibly embarrassinghimself for the rest of the month. They’ve been dating for a good while, but itdoesn’t mean that the sight of her mischievous grin doesn’t ignite a pleasantburn in his chest, and his fingers that itch to draw her into close proximityjust to hear her strained giggles as he pokes her to death.

A third party would probably retch intheir mouths a little at this moment, but Oikawa kicks said imaginary partyaside and does what he does best. Holding his head up high and pretending tobelong exactly where he is, even if it is the realm of possibly over-saccharinerevelations.

He hoists his gym back further up hisshoulder and calculates exactly how far and how long he’ll need to traverse toreach his desired destination. In the cream glow of the streetlights at night,he can still pick out her waving arm and swaying figure, most likely doing her bestto taunt him.

Oikawa rocks slightly on the back of hisheels, and then sinks low. He takes a measured breath and sprints straightahead at her.

He’s grateful now for the mellow burn inhis calves instead of its usual searing ache, and he marvels at how easy hisfeet bound forwards—he hasn’t had an excuse to run at full tilt in ages, notsince he’s missed his bus two months ago—and although he can pick out thesudden chirp of alarm from where she stands, there’s still enough moments forhim to relish the sound of the evening wind whipping past his ears in torrents.

It’s hardly fair competition, but Oikawacrashes into her all the same with a wide grin splitting his face in half. Shesquawks when he collides into her, knocking her completely off her feet, butwhen he picks her up off the ground entirely, volleyball and all, and flingsher around in a wild circle, the squawks turn into peals of laughter.

He lets her down once he starts feelingtoo much blood rush to his head. He holds a hand to his head, still slightlywinded from all the laughing and the activity, and she does her best to forceher features into a firm, and poor, replica of a disapproving look.

It doesn’t quite have its intended effect,not with the drunken staggering.

Oikawa cracks into a fresh peal ofsniggers, and points at her. “You look like a really grumpy salaryman after onetoo many drinks.”

She tries even harder for a few seconds orso, but gives up when she sees him almost doubled over with laughter; his handson his knees and bent at the waist—if one didn’t know where to look, this youngman with too much vibrancy coursing through his veins would almost beunrecognizable as the older, wearier man in the gymnasium with all the weightof his future digging into his aching shoulders.

If it makes him smile for longer, nomatter how short, she would stagger and frown as much as she could.

“I believe I won,” she announces proudly,still swaying faintly from one side to another. “You cheated! You ran!”

Oikawa takes a moment to gulp in some airin between laughs and peers up at her. “And you didn’t? What was that, then?”

“I am a very fast walker.”

“You were literally bounding across campus!”

“Isn’t running just extremely fastwalking?”

“And is flying just extremely fast falling?”Oikawa demands incredulously, but she’s twinkling in her eyes and the way shethrows her head back when she’s got the upper hand distracts him entirely froma perfectly formed argument. There’s barely any light that isn’t too orange atthis time of night, but somehow, she stills manages to glow from her cheeks. “You’restill holding that thing.”

She looks down. “What, the volleyball?”

“They’ll count tomorrow, you know. Coachis insufferably anal like that.”

Grinning, she tosses it up and catches itagain. “Technically you could count this as a handicap. For our contest.”

“Which you cheated in,” Oikawa says,rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling because it’s impossible to stop himself. Hehasn’t felt this completely off kilter in far too long; he misses the liberatingsensation of completely losing his mind to whatever his emotions felt. “Whatwould you do if we agreed that you won, then?”

“Dinner,” she answers promptly. Whichmakes him wonder if she’s simply plotted this all along, since she’d steppedinto the gym, looking for him.

“Dinner? Won’t your parents be expecting you home?”

“I called them before I went searching foryou.” Oh, she was practically vibrating with poorly concealed satisfaction, andOikawa can’t find it himself to stop the choking laughter that bubbles up histhroat either. “Whatever you think, Tooru, I am far sneakier than you are.”

“I’m beginning to readjust my expectationsalready,” he agrees readily. She beams, even if he’s not sure that it’s quitethe compliment he would have chosen for himself.

“Okay. Then I win, you can take yourvolleyball, and we can all go to get okonomiyaki. Does that sound good?”

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’retrying to do. Sneaking in your win like that.”

Laughing, she tosses the ball at his chestwith a small jump in her step. “Accept your place in the universe, Captain. Anddon’t pick battles you can’t win.”

Oikawa warrants nobody ever talks to himas candidly as she does, and quite honestly, he wouldn’t let anyone else do it.He was many things, but not as enthralled with himself as many consider him tobe, and no matter how much Issei or Hanamaki would literally bury him withblackmail if they’d ever caught a whiff of his after-school exploits with hisgirlfriend, he allowed himself this one luxury. This one happiness that fillshis chest without him bleeding for it, and having someone else split into jawaching smiles because of something hesaid; this was far out of his depth, but one he was more than willing toflounder in.

“Alright, lead the way.” Oikawa grips theball with his arm against his waist, and jerks his head ahead. “Bus stop?”

“Mhmm. It’ll be my treat today, so eat asmuch as you like.”

“I appreciate the heads up!”

She laughs all the way to the deserted busstop, reserved only for school routes, and he trails behind her with anuncharacteristic smile on his face.

He’d remember this, for as long as hecould and as clearly as he could, underneath the harsh lights of the stationand the poorly pasted phone advertisements; she stands with her hands woundbehind her back and leaning towards him, waiting for his steps to finally bringhim to her.

And Oikawa doesn’t say anything when shehooks her arm through his and it’s oddly tender, as if afraid to press too hardon his bruises. He doesn’t say anything when she glances at her phone andsmiles slightly at an incoming message. He doesn’t say anything when he turnson his phone and there aren’t any messages from his parents after she’d foundhim in the gym.

He doesn’t say anything at all, onlysmiling and humming in the way he allows himself when he’s alone with her, andshe rests her chin on his shoulder as they stare out at the empty street,waiting for the next bus to arrive with their hands around each other.

[thesearemy7thoughts]

Well. Here we all are again. I was just doing some research on the

supply lines that are down all across the nation. We get a newsletter

in the marketing department that gives us the specifics on what is

having suplly issues. And boy oh boy does it paint a harrowing

picture. So many things are having issues. Almost everything is "only

sell in small quantities" As if drip feeding our members will somehow

prevent panic. Well actually, it has prevented panic. It builds

frustration though. People can't get what they want or need to keep

their businesses running. And the reasons things are so hard to get

are not encouraging. Basically it breaks down to three main problems.

Problem one, Labor. Warehouses have seen the plague absolutely rip

through their staff. Just shreddding their numbers. And as conditions

worsen, and pay doesn't increase... Or well, the gap between pay and

prices increases, nobody wants to fill in the empty roles. Which is

obviously a problem when it comes to shipping. Problem two, material

supply. Because nearly every industry has been disrupted by an totally

precedented plague, packaging materials of all things are in high

demand and short supply. And as you might imagine that causes all

sorts of problems. Problem three, and this is the big one; Production.

The literal stocking and selling of the basic items that any company

sells to us, US! The 3rd biggest supply store in the country, is

breaking down. The earth is being drained. And there's fuck all we can

do about it because we have been burning our bridges for so long now,

the flames have begun to burn the horses at the back. Gods I'm just so

tired. Tired of everything. But particularly tired of pretending that

everything is okay. It's not okay. Everything is not fine. It's all

going to collapse. The economy is going to burst like a zit, because

that's what it's designed to do. And we've done most of everything we

can think of to keep it from doing exactly that, but here we are

circling the drain. Caught in a gravity that it's long long too late

to escape. Not to even mention that my personal life is hell right

now. We let the carpet get so bad, that now... We have mites. Or fleas

or some kind of truly awful inescapable bug that bites. My hands and

body are covered in small bites. And I have a horrifying suspicion

that they're living in my hair and beard. Ugh it makes me want to die.

I feel like I'm being eaten alive. And I definitely shoudn't have

eaten that kit kat. Maybe this is my... No this is definitely my karma

for not cleaning as much as Patti. She made sure of it. And rightfully

so. I have no defense. It was an an unfair and lazy thing to let

slide. And now I'm suffering the consequences, just like her. But holy

shit these consequences. I don't deal with itchiness well. It nags at

my mind. It interrupts trains of thought. It builds tooo. IT just

keeps gettin worse, even developing new itches. Until you scratch.

Gods I want to rip my skin off. And the thing is, that means that the

bugs are actively crawling on me right now. They're working their way

across my skin biting and burrowing and causing irritation. It's bad.

I'm going mad. Mad I SAY! Fuck me I'm bored. I wish I could just

noodle around on my computer. I hate doing the cold calling so much

I've just decided not to do it. Probably not great for my career, but

if I can't noodle, they don't get maximum effort from me. Plus no one

wants to be cold called.

[missaureus]

EXplOration in Manila Pt. 0.5

June 2019. EXplOration in Manila was the concert that happened like a flash of light. I did not even had ample time to go chronic drama queen about the announcement. Although months prior to the official announcement of EXplOration in Manila, a rumor was already circling about it to somehow mentally prepare our sanity and also our bank accounts. But it took me days to pass the initial shock that Manila was included in the first leg of the tour. It was even passed on that it could be on November. Joke was on us! An August concert!

My preparation for this annual EXO concert this year was less stressful I can say. Still, I had my own share of health-related battles prior to the event proper on top of my academic demands. Second week of June, my school year finally ended but I already accepted my fate that I could not cut any slack since the succeeding weeks were already fully booked. I was horribly much busier this year catering my medical scholarship duties. With so much happening right under my nose, I was not able to feel the intensity of the waiting game of the D-day announcement. Oddly, the announcements were pretty hectic compared to the usual 3-month gap.

I had a week to prepare my stuff for a conference in Bohol on the 4th week of June. It was a pre-immersion event for our DTTB shadowing which was scheduled 1st week of July. During that week of preparation, I had my clinic visitations because that is the only time I could address my diverse chief complaints lol- end of every semester. To be specific, I went to a Pulmonologist, Gastroenterologist, Dermatologist, and E&T Specialist. Imagine how tired I was. It seemed that every time EXO would have a concert in the Philippines, it is always a mile-high climb to the top. I still need to get through so much like a hero in a video game battling against all kind of demons in order to clear a stage and savor a reward. God! I hate being sick.

I had a week of breakfast with an ocean view after all those end-of-semester requirements. It was a much needed breather although the sessions are pretty long and some boring, at least I got my daily dose of vitamin sea. I went home alone from Bohol via Cebu route to catch up with my high school friends that I haven’t seen in the longest time. I also had a chance to meet up Nay Tsaris. It was an intense 48-hour lakwatsa challenge. I was happy. The crazy thing was, I was rushed to the ER right straight from the airport because the attack of the pruritic rash in my whole body gone madder, I was about to beg for anxiolytics! My dermatologist actually diagnosed me with ptyriasis rosea which is luckily non-transmissible and was attributed to stress and my decreased immunity.  I underwent treatment mostly topicals while I was away from home and it caused to much hassle in my part because the treatment was so time consuming early in the morning and at night. I had no choice but to endure and forget how my body chose to dysfunction during a very jam-packed month. 

July 2019. I had to contact the DTTB doctor assigned to me that I might miss my first day of shadowing, the workplace was a 2-hour ride away from Iligan because I wanted to go back to my dermatologist who then prescribed me other medications to alleviate my symptoms hahaha especially the itchiness istg it can make you go depressed that is why antidepressants are given to patients who have pruritus.

For my convenience, I decided to stay at our second house which is a 20-minute drive to my workplace. I brought one of my parents’ car as my service. Driving on unfamiliar routes to work for almost a month was a form of therapy to me. I can clearly remember that it was during UN Village era and I would blast the entire album in my car stereo while going to work and going back home. It was a pretty routine but it was liberating to explore somewhere I was not so sure of. A day prior to Baekhyun’s solo debut, PULP Live World officially announced EXO Planet #4 in Manila on August 24, 2019.

August 2019. I finally went home in Iligan since class will be starting in August. I also settled my accountabilities earlier than the usual ticketing schedule because I availed the ticketing assistance. To be honest, I had regrets hahaha. I should have done the easier way but with my uncertain schedule I cannot plot on when to do my responsibilities. I was so thankful to my friends who took initiative in booking our accommodation.

9th of the month, it was announced that EXO will be having a second day of the said concert on August 23, 2020. I was so happy especially for those who were not able to purchase a ticket. Sadly, it stirred so much ugly babbles from keyboard warriors. Malicious comments circulated how we could demand for another day but failed to sell it out. Many international fans tried to invalidate our points — being in a 3rd world country, amusement tax in the Philippines is actually mad. Philippines even has the most expensive set of tickets among all countries!

I had to drive to the nearest SM mall the next weekend after the confirmation of my ticket and it took a 2-hour drive to secure my ticket! I had to work on things with double efforts perfectly in order to not affect my already rigid schedule. With that, I am pagod af everyday.

Truth be told, I even had the same dilemma of preparing myself to swap my standing ticket to a seated one just in case I ended up feeling shit while still on the start of the academic year. School requirements made me out of breath at some time. What I had in mind was that ElyXiOn one is a top-tier hell since it was during second semester. I got through it apparently, I can realize this one also!

I bought my air tickets late since I was really waiting for the second day announcement. I was also contemplating if I can insert strolling around Manila before going home but it was impossible to do so.

Two days prior to my flight, I had my toot extracted. Finally pain free lmao. Ang dami ko talagang dinadala na I chose not to acknowledge. 

One day prior to my fight, my family had to move out temporarily to an apartment because they were planning to have an overall renovation of the house. I honestly had no energy left while juggling lots of stuff, so I requested not to move an inch of my stuff  in my room (I’d hate it) and I would do it after I go back from the concert. I was not able to feel the countdown that it happened so fast...

Past 11 AM of August 23, we we already heading to the airport. I rarely caught up some air prior to this since I was trying to act semi-responsible as a student that I still attended my class in the morning but had to ditch my last class of the day.

I was able to take a rest during the trip with Ate Elle and Ate Dhang on board. This is it!!!

[mizukikuramoto]

“KILL JA̶CKSEPTICEYE | Bio IN̵̛c Redemp T̨I̶̢on” Analysis + Theory

I don’t know if this is going to get any attention in the tag... that’s alright if it doesn’t. I just want to collect my thoughts into an analysis and a theory.

Well well well... Anti is back for more, and we also had the pleasure of seeing Dr.Schnee in action... Let’s just get to the point. Hey g͚̘͉̘̖̼̤͒̓̆̓͌̚͡ĺ̷̞̙̰̳͔̯̼̞̓̆͑̃̚͢͝ȉ̵̬͕̖̥͊̉̐̕̕̚͜͠ẗ̡̻̝͍͇́̑̈́̔̽̄͞͡͡ͅc̷̬̳̭͉͉͚̹̗̏͑̊̌̐̇͛́͡͡ͅh̦̘̪̥̽̾̒̋̉̃̀ͅ b̷̧̠͖̦̗̍͌̑̈́͗̇̕͜͠͡͠i̶̯̭͔̪̭̫͍̣͍̳͑́̈̉͌̆͞ţ̧̭͕̭̙̩͔̭̲͛̈̄̓̊c̬̰̞͔̹̱̙̪̹̳̉͌̀̃̒̑̚͡ḣ̶̨̜͙̜̙̔̈̋̋̕̕͝!̨̛̛̞̠̳͕̌͌̎̓͐͆͢ I’m going to shoot your plans out of the water!

But first, let’s dissect this video a little bit. I’ll be using time stamps as a reference. 

[0:39 - 0:45] Jack feels sick and steps out of the video, covering his mouth as if he’s about to throw up.

[0:47] Ze good Doctah takes over! He is confident, per usual.

[1:22 - 1:28] “JackSepticEye. . . he is one of my dear friends.” Normal for an alternative ego to have a correlating relationship with the ‘main ego.’ He expresses an attachment to Jack.

[2:00 - 2:10] “Taking shape, taking form. You do not look the best. You do not look the way you have always looked. You do not look like... yourself...” A bit weird to say that after assuming a stomach problem. It’s as if Dr.Schneep is aware of Jack’s disposition, that Anti is slowly taking control of him and that it’s physically taking a toll on him... well, perhaps appearance wise, but the video in itself is showing that Anti is causing Jack to slowly inch to death.

[2:22] The first glitch is seen. Subtle, sudden. Dr.Schneep appears to be fine.

[2:57 - 3:02] “Always. Always with the mood swings, one time he is one person, the next time he is a completely different person.” I’m probably looking at this too much... I just found this interesting.

[3:07] Ze doctah’s eye is itchy... ehh, it’s probably because Jack’s eye is itchy. Nothing more probably.

[3:41 - 3:45] Dr.Schneep starts to worry about Jack. The appropriate response for a concerning doctor and friend.

[4:14] The second glitch is seen. Longer than the first. It looks like Dr.Schneep is getting a nose bleed, just like how Jack got one from the “Say Goodbye” video. This could be Anti infecting him.

[4:18 - 4:28] “I saved my very good friend Chase. Chase Brody, he went back. He saw his family. Did they take him back? We may never know--” I mean, there’s speculation that Anti already got Chase. I saw a picture of Anti with his hat in a post. Just a thought. Dr.Schneep is getting a bit more concerned.

[4:54] Preeeety specific with the ‘anti’ in anti-coagulants...

[5:03 - 5:12] “If something gets inside your body, and it wants to destroy you from the inside out, there’s only one way to deal with it and that way is SCHNEEPLESTEN.” Things are starting to get serious. It’s just like timestamp [2:00 - 2:10], it’s as if he knows that Anti is slowly gaining more control over Jack. The third glitch shows ze doctah with black eyes, just like Anti’s. Anti has now fully infected Dr.Schneep, and I think he knows it too. 

[5:12 - 5:25] “You’re not... looking yourself. It’s getting very warm in here. . . very scary, very, very, nervous.” He is reaaaaally stressing out at this point. He’s trying to compose himself, but he is really worried about Jack and he’s getting flustered. Him saying that it’s very warm is probably due to him panicking.

[5:26 - 5:34] “What is happening? I feel it in my own arm.” Jack and Dr.Schneep are one and the same, they have a connection. Maybe it’s a heightened connection since Anti is inflicting pain on Jack while infecting ze Doctah. 

[6:03] The fourth glitch happens. Dr.Schneep is rubbing his neck. It possibly connects to the slit on Anti’s neck? The one he stitched? 

[6:32] The fifth glitch happens. Ze doctah is stressed out of his mind.’

[6:38 - 6:43] “You need... get... whatever is inside that brain! Whatever is inside, we need to get it out!” He is fully aware of what is happening to him, and he is stressing out big time because he is going to lose Jack if he doesn’t do anything. The sixth glitch shows Dr.Schneep convulsing, as if possessed.

[6:44 - 6:47] The flickering of the glitches are becoming more frequent, and Anti’s voice emanates from Dr.Schneep’s voice when he says ‘die.’

[6:49 -6:54] “Not again, I will not lose you. I almost lost you once before.” HE’S ADMITTING THAT HE STITCHED AND HEALED ANTI AFTER “SAY GOODBYE!” This is it! After Jack killed himself, Anti took over his body, and ze doctah stitched him back together. It’s still Jack’s body nonetheless! More flickering occurs.

[6:58] Dr.Schneep is freaking out, he has no idea what to do. He’s going to lose Jack. He is panicking.

[7:15] His attempts to save Jack are becoming futile. Systems failure is in the Zalgo/creepy font in cc. The camera flickers dimly to reveal Anti for the first time, smiling at us. Anti knows that he’s going to kill Jack, again.

[7:40 - 7:48] Dr.Schneep grows anxious.Anti speaks out from ze doctah with maniacal laughter. Anti has more control over him. 

[7:51 - 8:02] “Ve need to save him-- I need your help!!” Dr.Schneep is being driven by fear and panic. The feedback of the camera is lagging. He knows his demise is coming, and now he’s screaming at the audience to help Jack. He knows that we, the community, can stop Anti, but he alone cannot. Anti continues to speak over ze doctah, telling the audience to save him and not Jack... just like he always wanted us to do. (By the way that was a pretty cool transition from Sean to Anti c:)

[8:05 - 8:10] “Antidepressants, Anti-- depress--press--press--press. We have to depress Anti--and--get him out of there!” He’s trying to fight against Anti’s influence. He doesn’t have that much time, and now he’s trying to go against the glitch to send the community a message to stop Anti.

[8:11 - 8:20] Anti fights back and manipulates Dr.Schneep’s body to hang itself on the cord of his headphones. Ze doctah- thank goodness that this happened- breaks out of Anti’s control and continues to do his best to save Jack. This shows that he was, originally, one of the strongest egos among Jack’s alternatives. Sadly, he’s losing the battle as he is slowly fusing with the glitches of the video.

[8:24 - 8:29] Dr.Schneep is stuck in the control of Anti’s glitch, which is apparent from his repetitive, yet contorted, mention of anti-coagulants. His movement is synced with Anti’s as the camera flickers between ze doctah and Anti, signifying that Anti has full control over him now. Their expressions match, the madness is taking over him with every pulse of a glitch.

[8:30 - 8:46] Ze doctah’s pain is either the connection with Jack slowly dying, or the pain is from Anti which he is inflicting upon him. Anti, in the background, continues to laugh as Dr.Schneep succumbs to the realization that Jack will die, that whatever he did made Jack worse, that his efforts were wasted on someone that was going to die.

This is Anti’s part. I’m just going to list out the important parts he says.

“im tired of playing pretend! sick of it!”

“and you thought you had him back”

 “they all follow me”

“ive kept control all of this time!”

“i am eternal, always!”

“fooling around over, and OVER! in fucking circles!”

“mocking me with your ‘glitch bitch’ ” ha yeah shut up Anti you are a glitch bitch

“that doctor thought he could save him but he was MINE! he was weak!”

"who do you think youve been watching all of this time”

“powerless”

“my puppets”

“there are no strings on me”

So... what now. 

What does Anti want? What is he going to do? Jack is dead... again. What happened to Dr.Schneeplesten? I have a few ideas as to what’s going to come in the future.

There’s a few new things he mentioned during his little hissy fit: “my puppets” and “there are no strings on me.” He’s talking as if he is a puppeteer, the one pulling strings in this entire predicament. He wants- desires for power, for control, and as we were watching,”powerless” and unable to do much at first, he was ever so slowly getting what he wanted. From this video, it appears that Dr.Schneeplesten is now under Anti’s control, making the strongest of the bunch submit to Anti’s will. It’s just like what ze doctah said: “If one goes down, then they all go down.” Anti is planning to take down every other alternative ego and to break their will so that he could enter easily within them. He was able to successfully infect Dr.Schneep by making him feel helpless. Anti slowly pushed Jack to death and Dr.Schneep couldn’t do anything about it, causing him to spiral into a heap of panic and mistakes. He was mentally broken, and that was when Anti entered. If he was able to do that to him, then think about what he could possibly do to the rest of them?

What I fear is that Anti will use all of the alternative egos against Jack. Jack’s creations will turn against him.They will torture him, just like how Anti did to ze doctah. They will do all the dirty work, and Anti will grab the opportunity to possess Jack and fully control him. In a way, it’s like a computer: if you take down all of the smaller systems in a huge one, then you can hit the center core of the process with ease.

Now... what can we do?

We fight back. We can think two steps ahead of what Anti is planning. We continue to strengthen our will for Jack to come back- especially when he broke his two video streak OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ANTI YOU BITCH- and to make sure that we #saveseptic/#septicsave rather than save Anti. If we break now in a heap of worry, which is honestly working Anti WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO JACK, then we are playing right into the his hands.

Let’s do this for Dr.Schneep! For Jack! We are more than one person. We are a community. We’re not going to let some petty glitch take over Jack!

On another lighter note, I hope that you enjoyed my analysis, interpretation, and theory! I would really love your feedback please dont roast me alive. I’ll be honest, I’m scared to post this over tumblr. It’s moreso that it might get negative feedback, but that’s the risk that I must accept. I never really popped my head and put my input in stuff, especially in Mark’s and Jack’s community, so yeah ^^’

Have a good day all. Stay awesome, you are all amazing.

[therealhapue]

Hapue In A Post

Characteristics|:.

The date this form was created: (Character originated sometime in 2016 bit form made on 5-10-19)

Full name of Character: Hapue Dinoryn

The reason, meaning or purpose behind the name:

Hap is similar to Haq which has an Arabic meaning of truth and real

Nickname:

Feathery Hoe

Reason for nickname:

She has a magical cape made from Aarakocra feathers and has no issues using her body to get what she wants.

Race:

Drow Elf

Occupation/class:

Bard

Social class:

Low

Physical Appearance|:.

Age:

195

How old they appear:

25

Eye Color:

Red

Glasses or contacts?

No

Hair color length and style:

A dark grey that reaches her waist and is usually braided elegantly

Weight and height:

5’3, 120

Type of body (build):

Lean

Skin tone and type (i.e., harry, slimy, scaly, oily, fair, burns easily):

Extremely Black and soft

The shape of the face:

Round

Distinguishing marks (dimples, moles, scars, birthmarks, etc.):

She has those like lower back dimples

Predominant feature:

Her bold fashion choices, dark purples, and reds litter through her wardrobe as well as a lot of harnesses

Is s/he healthy?

Yes,

If not, why not? Or why are they healthy?

N/A

Do they look healthy? Why/why not?

Yeah, they have no illnesses

Favorites|:.

Character’s favorite color:

That purple that shifts into blue

Least favorite, why?

White, it looks very odd on her

Music?

In modern times she would love ballads but in her times it's pirate songs

Least favorite music, why?

She doesn't really have any though I don't think she’d be a fan of heavy metal.

Food:

She loves any type of bread

Literature:

Fantasy stories,(Though wouldn't it be non-fiction in her realm?)

Expressions:

She’s fairly emotionless, with a constant slight smirk on her face

Expletives (curse):

Constantlyyyyy in common,undercommon, and Elvish

Mode of transport:

A dire wolf preferably

Hobbies:

She tunes her instruments all the time.

Personality|:.

Habits:

She seems to follow music anywhere it leads, often forcing other members to play songs to get her to follow them.

Greatest Strength:

Her charisma is amazing she will nearly always get whatever she (or her party for a price) wants.

Greatest Weakness:

She’s not very attentive, in fact, she actually has ADD.

Soft spot:

A fellow party member who she will not name for her sanity. (AKA Nadia)

Is their soft spot obvious, why/why not:

Oh very, everyone knows it, it’s just the way she treats this lady differently compared to others, such as being more nice and caring, attentive to what she's saying

If not, how do they hide it:

N/A

Biggest Vulnerability:

Her hair, it’s pretty easy to grab, yet she refused to cut it.

Most at ease when:

Playing her instruments

Most ill at ease when:

Away from her members.

Priorities:

Her life, as well as those who trust her(and she trusts in kind)

Philosophies:

Those who earn my trust have my body in kind, whether that's as their shield or sword or medic.

How they feel about themselves:

Extreme self-esteem issues in her personality,(She knows she’s gorgeous) most people she sees do certain things better.

Past failure they would be embarrassed to admit:

The cloak she wears is the second one she’s owned, the first time it got really wet.

Why?

The person who gave them to her owned those feathers and is one of her closest friends, she feels ashamed being so careless with it.

Background|:.

Hometown:

The Underground

Type of childhood:

Very poor, she was forced out at 16 due to her parents hate for her.

First Memory:

A young teen held her close, who? She couldn't remember but soon hid her in a corner as a beacon of darkness shot by and a scream was heard. The person pulled her close and even amongst the chaos, sang her to sleep. The next day, she was alone.

Most important childhood event that still affects him/her:

That specific one

Why?

It taught her that even if the world is horrid there's still hope, she is still not sure if that person is real or imagined but too prideful to care.

Education:

Basic, simple reading and writing in her three main languages.

Religion:

None

Finances:

Poor

Traits|:.

Optimist or pessimist? Why?

Realist, She believes in hope, but still needs an explanation for everything and doesn't have blind faith.

Introvert or extrovert? Why?

Introvert, She really doesn’t like loud crowds and you know, the sun.

Drives and motives:

Trying to find that teen that saved her life, as well as her and her parties well being.

Talents:

She plays all her instruments well(Including her vocal cords) but has a special kindling to her flute.

Extremely skilled at:

Speaking and playing.

Extremely unskilled at:

Swimming, because last time she did she ruined her friend's cape and hasn’t swum in like 20 years.

Good characteristics:

Caring to her party

Extremely persuasive

Good instincts causing her raw and “primal” self to have some smarts

Character flaws:

Extreme trust issues

“Fight now talk later” mentality

Mannerisms:

Talking when nervous

Peculiarities:

Mumbles stuff to herself all the time, mainly her thought process

Biggest regret:

That poor cape

Minor regrets:

One time eating an extra ration of her party without realizing

Biggest accomplishment:

Mastering 10 different instruments

Minor accomplishments:

Keeping her appearance well constantly

Darkest secret:

She was the one to kill a large public figure, after figuring out he owned a large sex trafficking slave circle.

Does anyone know?

No

How did they find out:

N/A

Perception|:.

How do they relate to others:

Not well at all.

How are they perceived by strangers:

Standoffish and cruel, unless she wants something

Friends:

MAMA BEAR!!!

Wife/husband/lover:

As much as she likes someone, she doesn't have an official lover.

The first impression of the character:

Spooky, odd and not one to mess with

why?

She doesn't talk to new people kindly

What happens to change this perception:

They earn her trust

What do people like most about this character:

Her care bear actions and mentality

What do they dislike most about them:

She will not vent her emotions until she is at a breaking point which often involves punching a hole in a wall

Goals|:.

Immediate:

Protect her party on their Journey

Long term:

Find her hero teen.

How do they plan to accomplish them:

Searching Everywhere in any realm, to find her (Preferably with her friends)

How will others be affected by this:

They are in for one hell of an adventure.

Problems/Crisis|:.

How do they react in a crisis:

She usually freezes immediately than access the issue.

How do they face problems:

Usually with a punch than a reasonable answer.

Kind of problems they usually run into:

Social ones, she's well known for being a...consort of sorts, and often gets called out.

How they react to new problems:

Watch everyone or everything involved in the issue carefully.

How they react to change:

Pretty well, having had to move around a lot, as long as it's not about someone they care about.

General|:.

Favorite clothing, why: Dresses, tight ones with slits as it makes it easy to move in.

Least favorite, why:

Anything with ruffles, it’s usually very itchy

Jewelry:

A nice sapphire choker. A “Gift” from a friend

Other accessories:

The threaded friendship bracelets courtesy of Estia

Spending habits, why:

She only spends if necessary considering she can almost get anything for free.

What do they do too much of, why:

Shivering, she's always very cold

A most prized possession, why:

Her threaded friendship bracelet, it's a constant memo to keep going

People they secretly admire, why:

Nadia, they come from similar backgrounds but in hapues eyes, they are literally perfect at everything.

The person they are most influenced by, why:

Her party, she wishes to protect them with everything she has

A most important person in their life before the story starts, why:

Her mysterious teen savior, she kept her alive and unknowing of how bad the world was that night.