#and i’ve tried googling it but i haven’t found anything

[legofbicuriosity]

ok so there’s a quote/lyric/something and i don’t know where it’s from but it goes “you said “i’m fine alone, but it’s good to see you, man. i feel cut off from all i have been but am i the stump or am i the limb?” so if anyone knows or could tell me where it’s from that would be super cool

[nothorses]

I hope this is okay to ask but I’m pretty desperate and googling stuff has failed me, so do you or one of your followers have recommendations on how to deal with the BO that comes with taking testosterone? I never had BO that couldn’t just be managed by showering enough and putting on just any deodorant but now that I’m taking T I sweat a lot and I smell bad and I nothing I do seems to fix it. My boss has politely mentioned it several times now despite all my effort and it’s so mortifying and embarrassing.

Things I’ve tried and am currently doing include so many different deodorants which I bring to work and reapply, putting baking powder in my shoes, on top of general basic hygiene. But none of it seems to make a dent and it doesn’t help that I can’t really change clothes or shoes throughout the day. I have to wear closed toed shoes and a lab coat and my job is pretty active, plus it’s 10 minutes walk from the parking lot and it’s over 100F or 40 C right now so when I arrive at work I’m already pouring sweat. I also have a large chest so it all gets under my bra and soaks into it and by the end of the day the bottom part of my bra reeks.

I know some ocasional BO on a busy day can’t be helped but none of the other people at work including other male coworkers seem to have the same issue at all, so there’s got to be a solution but I haven’t found it. Im thinking of trying antiperspirants but I also know I need to sweat and I would rather not put my health at risk. So if anyone has something that works for them please let me know bc im really desperate here.

First I want to say: you're not doing anything wrong. You probably just sweat more than some other folks, and that's not your fault, and you shouldn't feel bad about it. I'm gonna give you some ideas to try if you haven't yet, but I don't know how much you've already tried, and it sounds like you've been through a lot already.

I also have always had terrible BO, and the only thing that helped at all pre-T was "prescription strength" deodorant. I honestly have had less of an issue since starting T, weirdly enough, but part of that is also that I physically cannot stand to shower any less frequently than every single morning (not necessarily a good thing lol), and I also started using antibacterial products on my armpits when I shower.

Currently I use benzoyl peroxide body wash on my armpits, which can be drying, but it hasn't caused me issues so far (just look for Panoxyl, other brands have caused irritation for me and my partner both). I used Betadine surgical scrub before that for a bit (you collect weird shit when you work with horses 🤷‍♂️) and that worked well, too- plus it's less likely to irritate skin.

I also find that certain shirts cause me to sweat there more, and those also tend to be the more form-fitting shirts that get up into my armpits. That skin def needs to breathe.

My partner has had trouble with feet/shoes in the past, and he's used cedar shoeforms to mitigate that (cedar is also antibacterial!). He also makes sure any shoes he gets are breathable (not leather), and if they are leather, he gives them at least a day or two between wears. Probably good practice if you notice any kind of smell on any of your shoes.

You mention baking powder, and I'm not sure if you meant baking soda and just mixed them up (which I do all the time lmao) but just in case: if you are using baking powder, the one you want is baking soda.

I don't have much advice for chest sweat, except that you may want to consider bringing an extra bra (and maybe an extra pair of socks if you're noticing it before the end of the day) to change into midway through the day. You can also look for more breathable fabrics in general, especially athletic-wear, which is already designed to help wick sweat and mitigate those issues.

Lastly, I want to stress again that you're not doing anything wrong. Some people have more trouble with this than others, and if you're really struggling in a way nobody around you is, it may be that you've got something going on in your body that they don't have to deal with. This could be a medical thing as well (like acne!!), and there's no shame in seeking medical solutions for it. Talk to your doctor if you can; it sounds like it's causing you distress, and you deserve to be comfortable.

[sunshineandspencer]

heyyy!! idk if you take requests or anything but I was listening the song “Three Letters” from She Loves Me and heard the line “If it weren’t for your endearing letters/ I’d be flying south will all the geese” and totally thought of Garcia signing up Spencer for a lonely hearts thing (as a kinda joke kinda not) and so he starts writing the reader but don’t know it’s each other. then they agree to meet somewhere and realize it’s each other and?! idk if that makes sense lol thought it was cute though

Three Letters (Request)

A/N: Hello!!!! I definitely do. I just haven’t had the chance to sort it all out (colds and farming sims own my life) but let me tell you this idea has me kicking and screaming. I’ve done something like this before but I can’t find it for the life of me and I love the idea that they’re writing to each other and just don’t realise - I took it as the sense that they’re co-workers and Garcia signed them both up, not expecting them to get each other. I really hope this is what you were looking for!! Also I have never heard of a lonely hearts thing (I’m British) but I love the idea of it, and hope that it’s definitely what google told me it is.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Garcia is tired of Spencer being single, and if the only way to fix that is to sign him up for a singles pen-pal society, then so be it. While she’s at it, let her add their other co-worker as well, there’s no way that could have any impact.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: fluff, implied sa but nothing detailed

be added to the taglist

Some part of him knew that this was a good thing, that talking to someone and hopefully getting a relationship out of this was a good thing.

However, Penelope - loving, caring, thoughtful Penelope - had been hard at work ever since she met him to find him somebody to love. It.. hadn’t gone well, and that is the politest possible way he could’ve phrased that without hurting her feelings.

First there were the dates, with a collection of either Penelope, JJ or Elle’s friends - none of which had turned out great.

In fact, one woman had stormed out the minute she saw him, because she assumed that FBI agents were all muscle and Spencer was the last thing she wanted to see. Another zoned out every single time he started talking, just humming or nodding until even he realised that she wasn’t interested.. she fell asleep in her damn salad. The final straw, however, was the woman who got outrageously drunk and tried to blatantly ignore his aversion to touch.

He got out of that as soon as he found her friend to get her home safely, and swore off ever trusting a date from any of those three women ever again.

Penelope, however, didn’t give up.

Her next plan of attack started online, with dating websites. Notorious in their line of work for usually being full of catfish and UnSubs, and many dating websites led to men and women being murdered. But she’s insistent, and he’s desperate to love somebody.

There are only several things that went better than his first foray into the online dating scene, and one of those is a vehicular fire, which tells you all you need to know.

Several of the women he matched with ended up only looking for someone to help them cheat on their significant others, many of them married. Which made his bright outlook on love slightly dimmer. The final woman from the online dating websites was the woman who turned out to actually be an UnSub - looking for cute young men to complete her ‘collection’, a human version of an antique doll set.

It was not a fun case to take part in, certainly not when he was greeted with the way he would’ve turned out had he met up with the woman and not done a background check on her first.

After that, he firmly shut down Penelope’s insistence on dating apps as well, his technophobia had barely survived having to use a computer for so long, and the library computers were an embarrassing place to try and match with the ‘love of his life’. So an app on his phone. Absolutely not.. he doesn't even know how to do that.

There was a break, a few months where Penelope didn’t try to push him into anything new or exciting, or downright horrifying. He turned twenty-four, he had a failed date with JJ, in which she actually bought along Penelope, and suddenly it all changed.

In his letterbox a couple weeks after that, was a letter. It had his home address on, but not his name, merely addressed to whoever this may concern.

It was gorgeous craftsmanship, a cream envelope with an actual lilac wax stamp on the back, with little flowers pressed into the wax. Of course, assuming this was an incoming case, he called Garcia to try and trace it, where she finally came clean.

“I’m so sorry! I completely forgot, I signed you up to a lonely hearts club. It’s a small society for two single people to exchange letters anonymously so you can get to know each other over time. It’s all handwritten! I thought you’d like that more than having to use a computer again. I’m sorry pumpkin, I- I can take you out of the society if you like?”

He thought about it, he actually thought about it so long that Penelope actually thought he’d hung up on her, or died, or something else entirely because he’s never this quiet.

But.. how bad could it really be?

It could, theoretically, be terrible, but it can’t hurt to try one last thing. He would have contact with whoever this is - he’s assuming a woman from the handwriting and the care gone into just the envelope alone - and if it all goes to hell then it just wasn’t meant to be.

One last try at love, he can grant himself that. Anonymously, he can do that, give himself a pen name and try to fall for words on a page - his written word was always better than his verbal flirting anyway.

As it turned out, however, he didn’t need to give himself a name, she’d given him one already.

“Hello sweet thing! Sorry if that comes off as too strong already, I’m just incredibly nervous and didn’t know what else to call you, so that is officially your name from now on. Unless you hate it, then you can absolutely tell me and I promise not to cry about it. I really don’t know what to say, do I start with my favourite things? Well.. I like Doctor Who, and I’ve always--”

The more he read of the letter, the more he wished it was even longer. This woman, wherever she is, whoever she is, is starting to make this out as the best idea Penelope has ever had.

He all but crashed his way into the stationary store, grabbing the prettiest envelopes and pens, and little details to add to the letter that he was so excited to add. Steamrolling through the store and getting back home to quickly respond. Instantly realising he was being far more.. poetic than he meant.

It was the combination of the childish excitement of having a penpal, his mother reading him love poems as a child, and his extensive knowledge on love letters.

Hell, he even ended his own letter with a Shakespeare quote. Basic, he knows, but it’s hard to think of anything beyond wanting her reply.

“‘Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.’ Yours, Sweet thing.”

It had been nearly three months of exchanging letters, and he was absolutely smitten with this woman. They had stuck to the rules and not given away any of their information, only talking about the things they like and eventually writing nearly daily.

It would be daily if it weren’t for the useless postage system.

He knows that she lives pretty close to him, he knows her address, plus they’d both admitted to searching each other’s houses, and they’re only about twenty minutes away by car.

That’s it, however, they haven’t looked for the other person despite being desperate for it.

They had described themselves through letters, but both ultimately agreed to just talk and see how it goes and base their furthering relationship off that rather than off their looks. Of course, that just sprung up more worries that he won’t visually be enough whenever they finally meet.

Meeting was, by far, the one thing he both wanted and dreaded.

This woman, who he had only ever addressed with a barrage of cute nicknames and poetical references, who understood his every word and reciprocated his nerdy obsessions and added her own.. he wants to know her so badly.

There is a very big underlying fear that the minute they meet, it’ll be over, the magic of what they are will fade and he’ll lose all this. The thought of her letters being sent to someone else physically pains him.

Penelope, ecstatic that one of her ideas had finally worked, had been badgering to meet with his ‘mystery woman’ for weeks now.

Finally, when she also, tentatively asked to meet with him for Valentine’s Day of all days, he knew she couldn’t deny her a single thing. Not when she sent with her letter, a coupon for flowers on their date.

A date. God.. he has a date for Valentine’s Day.

Not really a holiday he’s ever put much thought into before, but now it suddenly felt like the most important day that had ever existed. And one that came up far sooner than he expected it to.

Even with the place booked - a cute little café a little ways between both their apartments - and his outfit picked, and a card and little teddy picked with the help of Penelope, he didn’t feel ready. Perhaps it’s the lingering fear of rejection the minute she has to deal with him in person, or the fact that his last dates certainly didn’t go well.

Even with Penelope’s reassurance that she’ll adore him, especially after she actually read through his twelve page letter after she’d asked for his opinion on Egyptian mythology. Sending back her own absurdly long letter with a bunch more questions and her own fun facts that she could remember. He’s still absolutely losing his mind at the thought of having to finally meet her.

He got to the café about half an hour earlier than he needed to, wanting to make sure it was perfect (definitely not because he would’ve gone insane at home).

Spending whatever time it took for her to arrive making the table look nice, messing with his hair in the reflection and wondering if it really was getting too long. Constantly fixing his tie, and redoing it a hundred times over and tucking into his maroon cardigan sweater which Elle had called ‘dorky’.

Once it got to fifteen minutes before their date should’ve started, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, immediately rushing to get up and turn to meet his mystery writer. But.. it’s just the waiter, asking if he wanted another drink.

Jesus, they probably think he’s been stood up, and he quickly asks for another glass of water. 

As the man walked away, he ran his fingers through his hair again, looking towards the door - he’d been sat with his back facing it or else he wouldn’t have stopped staring for fifteen minutes.

Immediately, someone was looking at him, a vague sense of recognition swimming across her face. For a few split seconds he thinks it could be her, a beautiful woman with a bouquet of purple lilac blooms in her hands, but then he realises who it is, offering a small wave.

She’s friends with Penelope and, by extension, he’s spoken to and interacted with her quite a few times. They got on pretty well but never anything more than that since she’s always busy, part of the FBI’s CSI unit, and she’d even helped on a few cases before. But she isn’t here for him, she can’t be.

Walking over, she gives him a bright smile, eyes darting to the empty table and three empty water glasses - he’s been here for a while.

“Spencer! Hi! It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, I like the outfit.”

Looking down at herself for a few moments, she grins and then looks back up, doing a quick spin and then settling him with a mock-serious look.

“I’ve got a hot date, Penny said he would like this.”

“You look beautiful, don’t worry.”

Ahh, there goes any chance that she’s here for him, offering a smile and reassuring her that she looks great, eyes darting behind her to the door as she bounced on the balls of her feet. Eventually sucking a deep breath between her teeth and looking back as well.

Which got his attention, especially when she looked around the rest of the café with a confused look on her face. Sighing softly and looking around, his date wasn’t here, may as well help her.

“What does he look like?”

Turning back, she offered him a bashful smile, but she wasn’t going to turn down his offer of help, not when he’s tall and can see over all the stupid tall people around the café. Also.. it’s a very weird thing to explain.

Moving a hand to fidget with her necklace, his eyes focusing on it, vividly remembering her letters.

“--honestly, I have the coping mechanisms of a child. I still play with my necklace when I get nervous.”

“I don’t actually know, it’s sort of a blind date. Really hard to explain, Penelope kind of set us up in a way. I’m actually about fifteen minutes early so he’s probably not even here.”

There is.. no way this is happening right now. She’s still looking around the café for her mystery date, who might just be standing in front of her and he.. doesn’t know what to say or how to get his tongue to pick up from the base of his mouth.

Suddenly, and pretty violently, he’s flooded with the personality of the woman he’s been talking to for months, all of it projected onto her in front of him. It matches, from what he remembers.

The vague descriptions, her proximity to the FBI building, the fact she knows Penelope, the little TARDIS pin he’d seen on her lanyard that he never got the nerves to ask her about. Turning up to a date with a guy she doesn’t know, holding a bouquet of flowers that clearly weren’t for her, causing the flower token in his back pocket to start burning.

Fishing it out and stepping closer, getting her attention, surprised eyes snapping up to meet his at his sudden proximity. Until he took her hand and shoved the handmade coupon into it, her breathing immediately coming in short as they both looked down at it. Her voice trembled slightly.

“Oh~ hello sweet thing..”

“.. hello.” At his soft voice, she looked up and she gave him a completely bashful smile that matched the cute little poetic ramblings she’s been obsessed with for months. “Uhm, are those for me then?”

They both looked down at the flowers in her hands and she handed them over, feeling her heart shoot up into her throat as their hands brushed. Pointing at the purple lilac blooms as if he wouldn’t already know the meaning.

Needing to focus on something other than the fact that she’s going to kiss Penelope Garcia hard on the mouth for this.

“They uh- they are usually given to someone you meet for the first time, and signify the first emotions of love. Kind of love at first sight- not- not that I’m saying I’m in love with you, that would be a crazy thing to say on the first date- absolutely crazy--”

He eventually shut her up, leaning down to peck her lips softly, all nerves and panicked rambling dropped to just look up at him, in utter awe. Okay, maybe she can fall in love with him, she’s already halfway there with a month of letters.

Carefully, he guided her to their table with a hand on the small of her back as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and also he’d just kissed her to shut her up, and it worked.

“It’s fine, I love them, really. And Penelope was right, as your date I love the outfit.”

“Thank you, I love your sweater and-- ohmygod--”

As they sat down at the table, she buried her face into her hands, causing him to panic slightly, reaching out to carefully touch her shoulder. Saying her name worriedly as he set the flowers onto the table.

But she just looked up with a soft whine of embarrassment, peaking at him over her fingers.

“I called you my hot date to your face! That’s so embarrassing.”

Instantly relieved that it wasn’t anything he’d done, easing into a soft laugh and leaning back in his chair after squeezing her shoulder.

“It was cute! You didn’t even know who I was and you still called me hot.”

“It’s mortifying, you’ll never forget it and use it in your wedding vows or something.”

Sure, she was joking, but in the back of his head he filed something away for the future. A tiny, mental box, labelled ‘wedding vows’, wondering how long it would be until he could actually use that. 

Until then, he’d have to stick to ordering dinner on their first date.

Want more?! Good!

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[try-set-me-on-fire]

hello I am a slut for forehead kisses so may I request that prompt if it inspires? 🥺

I know I said reunion kiss was next but I have conflicting ideas about that one and this popped into my head and google doc nearly fully formed, so here you go. On ao3 here!

By the time Eddie has locked his car and is bolting up the stairs so fast he very nearly trips and eats shit, he’s 23 minutes late.

“Sorry, Cap,” he says, trying not to sound out of breath and discretely tugging wrinkles out of his uniform. “Water main burst near Chris’ school, must have happened after I left the house ‘cause I didn’t get any traffic alerts.”

Bobby snorts. “As your captain I have to say ‘try to be punctual next time,’ but as someone who also lives in Los Angeles… it happens.”

Eddie sighs in agreement and slides onto one of the bar stools. At least it’s not a day where they got called out immediately, he’d feel terrible if he arrived and everyone was already out on the truck. A coffee mug — Eddie’s favorite at the station, a deep speckly green handmade number somebody had found at a farmer’s market — lands next to him, along with a familiar warm presence at his side. He smiles as he looks up at Buck.

“Hello, husband,” Buck says, grin so bright Eddie thinks he might be bioluminescent if they turned off all the lights.

“Hi, husband,” Eddie says, figuring he’d probably glow in the dark, too.

-

Eddie supposes he’s probably had more eventful 72 hour time spans in his life, though he’s hard pressed to remember one where the majority of the events were this good. It’s not like it started fantastic, his shoulder still hurts like hell from landing on it when the factory floor went out from under them, and there were the three horrifying hours where no one could find Buck and it felt like the world was ending. He hadn’t kept his cool very well, he’ll admit it, and he’s fully expecting teasing to set in any time now that they’ve had a few days and Buck is perfectly fine.

They’d found him in a little pocket in the debris two floors down, not a scratch on him. He’d lost his radio, but otherwise he was sort of just waiting around. Legs crossed, hands behind his head, chill as anything. He could have been at the goddamn beach.

And he’d looked at Eddie, a happy little smile on his face, and said “I knew you’d find me,” and Eddie — who’s lungs hadn’t been working right since he’d tried to call Buck on the radio and got silence in return — had kissed him instead of saying I always will.

And when they’d got back to the station he’d gone ahead and said it out loud, too, and I don’t know how to be without you and I love you, I’ve loved you for so long and move in with me and marry me, we should get married, please marry me.

Buck’s knuckles had been almost creaking with how tight they’d been gripping the sleeves of Eddie’s uniform. “Why? I mean- we haven’t- you never- how could you want that? It’s me, I-“ he’d laughed, trying to make it into a joke. “Won’t you get sick of me?”

“I want to share my whole life with you,” Eddie had said, and then laughed a little breathless. “And Buck, I- I think we already do. Your toothbrush is in my bathroom and I have a green lawn chair because you said it looked like a frog and- and you fixed the holes in my wall and you’re raising my son. We share- my house feels most like a home when you’re there. So. You can be there, forever, if you want. You want a couch? I have a couch. You like my couch.”

Buck had laughed, tears in his eyes, kissed him again, and said “I love your couch.”

So Friday evening they’d been sitting on the aforementioned couch as best friends eating pizza and drinking beer, and Sunday morning they’d got married, and had an all day long party in their backyard with people dropping in and out whenever they weren’t at work or had other places to be and Eddie had smiled so big and laughed so hard his cheeks still ache, and Sunday night he’d had sex with a man for the first time. He, Eddie Diaz, had sex with Buck (who’s last name is now sort of a toss up until he decides how he wants to change it, a process that turns out comes with a lot more paperwork and waiting than a marriage license). Not even just sex- Buck fucked him into the mattress so hard Eddie thinks he may have had some sort of religious experience. He came so hard he got a little mad about it after. Like. Is this what it’s supposed to be like? He could have been having sex this good the whole time? Buck had laughed at him, loud but not unkindly.

He’d learned what it’s like to sleep in a bed beside the man that he loves. Buck is warm and his feet are cold and he is delightfully solid and unmovable. He snores, especially when he curls up in his sleep, but Eddie has spent years sleeping in a big shared room in a fire station and years before that falling asleep in a war zone, so it doesn’t bother him. This morning they’d woken up holding hands even though they hadn’t gone to sleep like that, and Eddie is in love, in love, in love.

-

Sometime about halfway through their first shift as a married couple they’re called to a car gone over a cliff in the hills. It’s not gone very far over the cliff, and is resting on stable ground, and the occupant inside seems more shaken up than anything, but someone’s still got to get in a harness, and like usual that person is Buck.

Eddie can feel Chimney smirking off to the side as he triple checks Buck’s harness and line, but this is something Eddie always does and not a new feature of some sort of honeymoon phase. Buck’s life is precious, has been since the beginning, he’d never risk it with something as preventable as an improperly secured strap. Back last year, when Buck had been in the coma, it had been the one thing he’d not felt guilty about. The harness had caught him. Eddie had triple checked it. He always has and he’s not going to stop now.

"Be careful,” he says, darting in to give him the quickest kiss he thinks he can get away with. So, that part is new, sue him.

Buck's eyes get wide, and then he nods very solemnly. "I will," he promises, looking at Eddie for another long minute before he goes over the side.

To his left Bobby lets out a huff of air, and he's making a face and shaking his head when Eddie turns to investigate. Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"It's that easy?" Bobby gestures down the side of the cliff, amused. "I should have had one of you marry him ages ago."

Eddie laughs, and turns back to keep an eye on the line.

-

“We’re going to the roof,” Eddie says, after they’re back at the station. “For fifteen minutes,” he concedes to Bobby’s raised eyebrows. “To engage in strictly pg13 activities,” a final plea.

Bobby sighs, and Hen cackles as he waves a defeated hand at them to go ahead. Eddie hooks his arm through Buck’s and they stumble up the stairs side by side, laughing like they’re getting away with something.

-

They only got twelve minutes before the alarm rang again, and it was non stop after that till the end of the shift. Eddie’s shoulder is almost too stiff to move at this point, and Buck looks dead on his feet.

“You wanna just come home with me?” He asks, leaning on the locker next to Buck’s as he changes.

“Uh…” Buck looks tempted when he emerges from his t-shirt, hair all ruffled, but then he shakes his head. “Nah, we took both cars for a reason, I should go grab stuff from the loft.” The logistics of very suddenly moving in together are still working themselves out. Eddie thinks he could probably push — Buck practically lived with him before, anyway, what could be at the loft that he would miss so terribly it couldn’t wait another night? — but they’d planned their day like this so they could both go on Chris’ beach day field trip tomorrow without having to squeeze packing around it.

“Alright,” he agrees, though he can’t help feeling a little reluctant about it. He hasn’t been apart from Buck for more than an hour since he’d been lost in a pile of rubble, and he doesn’t really want to go separate ways now. He leans in for a kiss, and the way Buck smiles into it might be able to tide him over for just a little while. “I’ll go get the kid. See you at home.”

“Okay. Goodbye, husband,” Buck says, a little sparkle back in his tired eyes.

“Bye, husband,” Eddie laughs, soft, kissing him again.

-

There’s three unpacked boxes pushed to the side of the living room and two others empty by the recycling, contents dispersed around the house. By mutual, exhausted decision they’d agreed to deal with the rest some other time and collapsed into bed. They can’t even really make out properly, one or both of them yawning into it repeatedly until Eddie laughs and rolls onto his back, setting his alarm for the morning and settling more comfortably under the covers.

“Night, Buck,” he breathes, leaning onto his pillow to kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

Buck does the little smile with startled-wide eyes he’s done every time Eddie’s said it so far. “I love you, too. Uh- sweet dreams.”

And that should be that, another happy night of wedded bliss, but the thing that Eddie knows and kind of forgot is that after a long and hectic shift Buck gets a little restless no matter how tired he is, brain running overtime, so after trying to wait out his tossing and turning and yawning Eddie eventually sighs, turns the bedside lamp back on, and pokes him in the side.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Buck frowns at him. "Eddie. What if I die in my sleep?"

He doesn’t think it’s a real question, but it still makes his stomach lurch a little. "Why would you do that?"

Buck makes a face. "I wouldn't mean to."

"I mean- why are you afraid of that?"

Buck frowns harder. “I don’t know. I heard once you yawn because you’re falling asleep and your brain thinks you're dying, so it tries to get you a burst of oxygen to save you.”

“Okay, but- you’re not actually dying.” Eddie reaches a clumsy hand under the covers till it collides with Buck’s chest, where his heart is somewhere inside beating steady. “You’re okay. Just tired.”

Buck nods, but he hasn’t stopped frowning. “What if you die in your sleep?”

Eddie hums, shuffling onto his side to face Buck more fully. “I don’t plan to.”

“Okay,” Buck says, trusting Eddie’s word even in a hypothetical he would in actuality have no control over. “What if Bobby dies? Or- or anybody. What if… a meteor destroys the station and we can’t go to work?”

Eddie snorts, and then feels bad about it until he sees Buck grin a tiny bit. “I think we’d still have jobs, Buck. They’d rebuild the station, we might all just have to work at different houses for a while.” Buck frowns again, and Eddie winces at introducing this new worry. “Hey. If a meteor destroys our station I promise I will beg on hands and knees to get transferred to the same place as you.”

Buck laughs, just a small exhale of air through his nose. “Feel like you might wanna stay upright. They might cite professionalism and all that.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, kissing his cheek. “I will beg on two feet to stay by your side whenever I can, as long as I can.”

“Alright,” Buck says, a little choked. He slings an arm over Eddie’s side and settles in close against him, and Eddie thinks that might be it until he says, very quietly, “What if I’m not a good husband to you?”

“Oh, Buck.” This question is a real question, the one that was hiding behind all the others. “You're doing pretty great so far.”

“It’s been like two days.” Muffled, somewhere around Eddie’s collarbone.

“Yeah, and they’ve been a pretty great two days.” He drags his hand around Buck’s ribs, everything made soft sandwiched by blanket and sleep shirt. “I asked you to marry me because I wanted to be married to you. I wanted- you to be married to me. My husband.”

“Yeah, that’s usually why people ask that question,” Buck mumbles, not, apparently, in the mood to easily accept comfort. “But what if-“

“Are you afraid of me?”

“What?” Buck reels back in surprise to look at him. “No. Of course not.”

“Then why are you scared I’ll change my mind?” Eddie can feel the raised line of a scar on Buck’s back through his shirt. The one from getting tossed from the board the first time he’d gone surfing, Eddie’s pretty sure, years before they met. “I won’t. I’m not going to get tired of you, I’m not going to leave you behind, you’ll never be too much for me. You-“ Eddie takes a breath, tries to get his thoughts in order. “You make my life better by being in it, and that has always been true, and you know we’ve gone through some shit before. Even… even when you were suing the city because you were a lonely little idiot and I was pissed at you because I was a mean little idiot, all I wanted was to be by your side. When I was bleeding out in the street I just wanted to be with you. When you were- when you were dead on that ladder I’d have done anything-“ Eddie exhales, hard. Buck is on his left side, birthmark buried in the pillow, so Eddie has to snake his hand up to tilt his head for access to it. They’ve only been able to kiss each other for a tiny handful of days, but it doesn’t feel new, really, when he presses his lips to the pink blotches of skin. “I don’t know how else to explain it to you, but I will keep trying every day for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me.”

Buck kisses him, hard, holds him tight. “I- yeah, I-,” another kiss, slower. “As long as I can- I’ll tell you, too, I- I’ve never been anywhere I’ve felt- it’s so easy to be here, in your- in our home.” Buck’s fingers find Eddie’s scars, twin bullet holes, touching them so reverently he thinks the scars might heal right up and vanish. “You make me-“ He kisses Eddie’s cheek, up by his eye, his nose, right between his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to say it. If you try every day, can I try, too?”

“Anytime,” Eddie vows. “Every day, anytime you want.”

“Alright,” Buck says, tail end of the word getting swallowed by another yawn. Eddie kisses his forehead again, or maybe just smiles against it. “I love you, Eddie. So much.”

“So much, too.”

It’s a little bit of a stretch to be able to turn the light off again with Buck still wrapped around him, but he gets it on the second try. He’s not sure how well he’ll be able to fall asleep tangled together like this, but that’s fine. Buck is warm. His feet, where they’re bumped here and there into Eddie’s legs, are cold. They breathe in, and on this inhale are entirely synched. There’s no place he’d rather be.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for block evading to check if I’m blocked?

I (14f) know for certain I’ve been blocked by 5 people on this app two for looking like a bot when following and the other because I didn’t want to Rp with them even though I didn’t know them

This is about the other two who I don’t know why they blocked me, I’m not trying to refollow them or look at their posts in secret I don’t even talk to them maybe sent a couple asks to the first one but not the second and was never a mutual with them just a random follower

The first one made me really stressed because they blocked me while I was on the blog so I thought it was a tumbler error, so I double checked by searching them in google and looking at them and searching them on tumblr to find they had a sideblog I followed that blog and found they blocked me again I’ve since left them alone but have been stressed since I don’t know what I could have done to get blocked since I never sent any hurtful asks or do anything problematic on my regular blog

The second blog that blocked me made was one when I followed their side blog and when I tried to go to their main I was blocked on that, again I searched google and found I could see their blog there but not on here which also made me stressed since I don’t have any memories of interacting with that blog at all besides thinking the art looks familiar so I don’t have any idea why they blocked me

And it’s not an age thing since I haven’t put my age anywhere on my blog for no reason other than not wanting to so it can’t be that

Extra information: when I say search google I mean clicking the copy links button and pasting that on google so I can look at it

The reason I’m asking is because I’m a little paranoid and stressed thinking I’ve done something wrong and it’s effecting me because I don’t want to have a bad reputation on here for something I’m unaware of so me double checking is just me trying to be more thoughtful when I send asks and I still follow the sideblog the second person who blocked me and a third one from the first and wonder if I should block them on those accounts or unfollow?

What are these acronyms?

[sovietpostcards]

Hello! Love your blog, I’m a huge fan of vintage European stuff. Sorry to bother, I’m not sure who else to ask about CCCP stuff:

I’ve recently been going through my grandparents’ record collection to catalog it, and I’ve come across this record of Beethoven’s 3rd symphony. It still plays fairly well! I’ve tried searching for the text on the label, to no avail. The sleeve is also fairly generic.

My father believes my grandfather would have gotten it at an east German thrift shop, but other than that and the general time estimate of 1950’s-60’s, I’m stumped as to the specifics of its creation. I’ve gone through Discogs and the Catalogue of Soviet Records sites, and haven’t been able to find any records of Beethoven’s 3rd with this style of label (me not knowing any Russian doesn’t make the search any easier lol). Any chance you know of any resources I could use to help get to the bottom of this?

My grandfather loved the sound of Russian orchestras more than anything, and in his memory I’d like to digitize this and make it more available… but that’s a little trickier when for all I know, nobody else seems to know it exists.

Thank you for your time, and have a lovely day! :D

Hi! Oh a bit of investigation.

This is a 33 rpm record of Beethoven's Third Symphony conducted by Konstantin Ivanov from mid-50s.

I don't know if I'm able to offer any info apart from you googled yourself, but here goes.

Discogs has a good page. It doesn't have this particular label listed, but I think these generic labels were largely interchangable.

I found some records with the same label design, for example here is Beethoven's 7th by the same guy Ivanov. This label seems to be dated 1953-1957. Yours says GOST (state standard) 5289-56, so it's my understanding that it can't be earlier than 1956.

I found this youtube video - is that it?

I hope this helps in some way.

[gaysindistress]

Связи (n.) connections - four

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: mob!bucky x reader

Summary: “Did you think you could hide from us? That’s adorable, little one. There’s no where on this planet where you could hide from the Shostakov Bratva and even if you did manage to evade us, the Barnes Bratva would find you. Your связи, your connections, will always come back to haunt you, Y/N.”

Warnings: cursing, Carol not being nice

Word count: 3.4k

part three | series masterlist

taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @unaxv @identity22

A week passes by in a blur of moving and staring out the window while that stupid song, Possibility by Lykke Li, plays in the back of my head. Bucky arranged for all of my stuff to be moved into his penthouse but promised to keep my apartment for me. I think he even offered to take over my rent but honestly I don’t remember. I’ve tried to tell myself that I haven’t fallen into a depression but that would be a lie.

Between having my world crumble around me and then rebuilt by others, it’s to be expected that I’m feeling…awful. That’s not the right word but it’s all that I can think of to describe the feeling of complete isolation and loss of control that’s taking residency in my chest.

Bucky and Sam did stay around for the first couple of days, probably to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid but after that, it was just me, the two guards who never look like they’re doing anything, and two other staff members. Thor, the massive blonde guard, lounges at the kitchen island everyday and flirts with the golden haired cook named Jane. The other guard, Valkyrie, is always within sight of me and moves when I do like a little shadow but I rarely see Loki who I can only assume runs the entire place. If he’s not on the phone, he’s just hanging up or is excusing himself to answer it.

I’m grateful to have had time to process and grief before being shoved back into my life and forced to act like nothing happened. Tony and Steve both have called numerous times to make sure I’m okay after randomly taking a week off but it’s Carol’s insistence on texting, calling, DMing, and FaceTiming that gets to me. I have half a mind to show Bucky and get him to do something about however something tells me that I won’t like his methods.

His question comes in the form of a text the first night he’s not around. It was simple; “what’s your favorite food?”

“Are you really going to waste your question on that?”

“It’s a question all the same.”

“Pho but it has to be from the place down the street from my apartment.”

The next day Jane brought me that exact meal and made a point to show me the note that accompanied it.

“See? Not a waste.”

It wasn’t signed but I knew it was from him. Although I wanted to be angry with him for the part he’s playing in all of this, I couldn’t be. I can’t. He’s just as stuck as I am.

We’re both stuck being pawns for a giant game of chess that neither of us want to play.

A debriefing with Wanda and Carol wasn’t exactly what I thought my first day back at work would entail. I’d hoped for a relaxing day with my head buried in paperwork so I could avoid any questions but apparently not.

It surprised me at first that I would be allowed to go back to work but my father apparently hadn't cared enough to make any terms and conditions regarding me after I married Bucky. His concerns lay in the merging of their lower men and giving the directive of “shoot first, ask questions later” if they saw Antonia or any of her people to their Brigadiers. Neither of those things involved me and seeing as I was now a member of the Barnes Bratva, I became Bucky’s burden to bear.

The lack of rules regarding me meant that I could return to work and use it as a cover to help with the FBI’s investigation. Hence why I’m being forced to endure Carol’s stare as Wanda gives me the complete run down on Alexei. The entire time Carol’s been burning holes into my back and Tony’s done the same to her.

The moment I walked in, he had grabbed and yanked me into his office, demanding to know what the fuck happened. I explained as much as I could without putting him in danger but he refused to hear it. He’d threatened to send Steve after me if I didn’t give him the full story and the thought of Steve lecturing me was enough to have me spill everything. I swear tears pricked his eyes but he was quick to engulf me in a hug and promise to do whatever I needed him to.

“Anything at all, you call me. I don’t care what time it is, you call me,” he’d whispered into my hair and I nodded.

I honestly think if I asked him to make Carol disappear, he would. He might even be trying to do that now with the way he’s shooting daggers at her. Wanda pretends to not notice but the air is growing too hot around us and she lets out an annoyed huff.

“You need to figure your shit out right now. I don’t get paid to deal with children so you better grow up and sort it all out right now.”

Carol is the first to speak, “this isn't safe anymore. We need to call it off and find another way to get evidence.”

Wanda arches one auburn brow, “and why isn’t it safe anymore?”

“You know why.”

“I do but if you’re going to suggest something that stupid, you need to back it up.”

Tony snickers to himself and earns a glare from Carol.

I interject, “the operation is fine and we all know nothing is ever going to be ‘safe’ not when you’re dealing with criminals. Your best chance is me. Alexei will trust me more than anyone else you’d send in. It’ll be slow and you probably won’t get anything useful for a few weeks but sending in more people or even pulling anyone will be suspicious and he’ll catch on. I’ve been made Bucky’s Sovietnik and he’s obviously a part of all of this so I’m already in a good position to infiltrate Alexei’s organization or at least get someone else in.”

“Barnes made you his advisor already?” Wanda asks with curiosity and something else edges her voice.

“He only did it to piss me off,” Carol snips as she moves to make herself coffee.

“I’m starting to think you’re the problem, Danvers. Maybe you need to be reassigned,” Wanda snips back as she goes back to look at the file splayed out on the table. She’s leaning over the table and Tony joins her, coming to sit next to where her hand is on the table. They begin to speak in low voices and I take that as my cue to take a break or make a run for it. I still haven’t decided as I get up and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Carol’s lurking on the other side of the room, angrily stirring her coffee and staring at the ground so I think it’s safe to slip out.

Alas, everything I think is apparently wrong and I don’t see her follow me out but she makes her presence known when she grabs my arm in the hallway and stops me.

“What is it with people grabbing me?” I sneer at her as I spin around and pull my arm away from her before she can say anything. Hurt flashes in the eyes that I once loved to get lost in but that was before I found out she’s been using me. Now they’re dull and lifeless like a painting that’s been sitting in the sunlight too long. “What do you want?”

“I…” she stammers clearly not expecting me to snap at her and that makes me even more angry. Did she really think I could forgive and forget, move on after hearing that she’s the reason my sister is dead and that she’s been lying to me since we met? The void that’s eaten away at me now fills with molten anger and demands to be released.

“Spit it out. I have to pee.”

“I'm sorry. I wanted to say I’m sorry and ask if you’d come over for dinner tomorrow.”

If I were feeling anything other than anger, my jaw would’ve dropped in surprise but instead it clenches and I raise a brow at her.

She continues, looking around to make sure no one hears a single desperate and disgusting word she’s saying, “please, Oksana…”

When I didn’t think she could fuck up anymore, she does and she knows it by the way her face pales.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear; my name is Y/N and I want nothing to do with you after all of this is over. Bucky already told you that we can’t be seen together anymore. We can’t be together anymore and nor would I even want that if it was a possibility. I will be professional because we have a job to do but don’t expect me to come running back to you because you said you were sorry. It means nothing to me.”

Something shifts in her and she takes a step forward as a dark look overtakes her features, “but it means something when he says it?”

I narrow my eyes at her and scoff. Jealousy is a terrible look on everyone but on her it’s appalling. Shaking my head, I turn to the bathroom and she yanks me back, pinning me between the wall and herself. She leans down to whisper in my ear, “because he’s the good guy, right? The guardian angel who saved you from turning out like your sisters? Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even try to stop the marriage and just rolled over like a fucking dog?”

“No,” I grit out as I try to push her but she doesn’t budge. “Move.”

She presses further into me and I gasp out of anger, shock, rage, take your pick.

“He’s the criminal here, don’t forget that,” she whispers in my ear and I squeeze my eyes shut at the feeling of her breath washing over me.

“I can see it clear as day now,” I whisper back and she pulls away with pinched brows. Dropping my head back against the wall, I use her confusion as my chance to slam it forward and smash my forehead into her nose. She lets out a shriek of pain and jumps away from me as blood gushes from her nose. I can feel where my forehead made contact with her nose and blood drips down my face but I don’t care.

“Tell whatever story you want, Carol, but don’t think you can make me the villain without forcing me to turn into one. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do nor do you know what I’m prepared to fucking do if needed. You are a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

Finally she’s silent and I straighten my shoulders at my victory before giving her a look that would make even Alexei shrink away. I know that someone will have something to say about what just happened but for now, I’ll bask in the glory of getting her to leave me alone and clean up my face after I pee like I originally wanted to.

Tony is sitting on the bathroom counter when I open my stall and go to clean up. He doesn’t look pissed but he doesn’t look happy either. I choose to ignore him as I gather paper towels and wet them so I can dab at my forehead. He takes them from my hands and finishes the job.

“You need to be more careful.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you though? I don’t know exactly what Barnes has worked out with the Feds but I’m sure there’s a clause somewhere that lets them drop you whenever they want.”

I stare blankly at him and he rolls his eyes; what a perfect duo we are.

“All I’m saying is that if something happens, I don’t know that I can help you.”

I step away from him, narrowing my eyes at him, “I don’t need you to save me. I don’t need anyone to save me, I can take care of myself. If something goes wrong, I’ll be fine because that’s always what happens; I find a way out.”

Tony’s eyes soften and he drops the bloody towels into the sink, “I didn’t say you needed saving, I said I might not be able to help. Those are two very different things and this..”

He gestures under us as if the lies are tangled into the air, “this is different. This isn’t a bad day on a case or even a criminal who got away. This is your past. These are your connections that you’ve tried to sever for years coming back to show you that you won’t be free until every last one is gone. All I’m asking is for you to be careful please.”

I nod and shift my stare to the woman in the mirror that looks vaguely like me. Her forehead is a collage of dark hues, throbbing under the surface but the blood is no longer visible. Her eyes are void of anything, any life, any emotion whatsoever but there is a slight curl to her lips, a shadow of a smirk.

Oksana is staring back at me and I find myself welcoming her home after so many years.

The first thing out of Sam’s mouth when he sees me is “Jesus fucking Christ” as he hands me an ice pack. It’s been a few hours so it’s not like it’s going to do anything but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

“You should see the other guy,” I half joke as I take the pack, pressing it to my forehead with a wince and he shakes his head even more.

Bucky on the other hand is silent, nothing betraying what he’s thinking as he stares at me from across the kitchen island. It’s unsettling. It’s unrelenting. It’s enough to make me want to vomit.

Sam notices and clears his throat, drawing me into a debrief about the meeting with Feds. He sits beside me and doesn’t hesitate before diving into how I got my lovely bruise. Only then does the Pakhan speak and causes us both to freeze mid sentence.

“Question for a question,” he barely utters as he leans back against the cabinets and crosses his arms. “Did she threaten you?”

Sam’s eyes dart between us as I carefully pick my words, “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

I raise a finger at him, “it's my turn, what changed that night?”

Vague sure but he understands.

“Take your pick. Alexei’s men came in too early, Joseph was killed, you fought me more than I expected, Yelena wasn’t sedated and then she bit Sam.”

I nod, satisfied with his answer and tell him to ask his second question which he repeats. Sam and him give each other a look before he slips out of the room and leaves just Bucky and I in the kitchen. Jane had left us all plates in the fridge but only Sam and Bucky had eaten. Mine still sits untouched only a few inches away on the island but I’ve been too focused with talking to even think about eating.

“She followed me to the bathroom and grabbed my arm.”

“There’s more.”

Damn, he’s getting good; stating things so that I have to either confirm or deny them but not outright asking.

“No there’s not.”

“Yes there is, tell me what else happened,” his voice is stern and it sends a shiver down my spine.

“There’s really not.”

“So your forehead just randomly bruises like that,” he states with a bored look and gestures to the darkening spot on my forehead.

Suddenly my food looks appealing. He calls my name, softer this time and I let out a sigh before looking at him over my food.

“She pinned me against the wall and wouldn’t move so I made her.”

“And head butting was the best option?”

I narrow my eyes at him, “one at a time.”

“Fine, ask yours then.”

I chew my food, pretending to think of one even though I already have one in mind. I maintain eye contact with him as I swallow.

“How long were you and nat together?”

He rubs his jaw and scratches at the stubble that’s grown into almost a beard since the start of this all. Eye bags are slowly starting to form and I wonder if it’s from me or the Feds or anything other aspect of his life. Everything seems to be complete chaos around him albeit organized to some degree.

“We weren’t.”

My brows knit together in confusion, “what? She was in love with you, she wouldn’t shut up about it.

He shrugs before sliding off the counter top and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Some things are better left alone.”

“Are you always this frustratingly vague? No wonder Sam is always in a mood, you only speak in riddles and sarcasm.”

Bucky chuckles. “And I’m guessing you have a habit of picking fights when backed into a corner.”

“I was raised by the one and only Alexei Shostakov; isn’t that what he’s known for?”

He nods in agreement with a smirk but doesn’t say anything. We settle into silence as I finish eating and he stands guard with his arms crossed while leaning against the wall closest to the front door. The penthouse isn’t extravagant but it’s not homey either. Steel, concrete, and dark wood cover every surface giving it a showroom vibe and the severe lack of any personal touches makes it worse. The room I’ve been staying in was like a hotel room when I first moved in but now it’s at least comfortable thanks to my things. I tried once to be a minimalist but after years of not being allowed to enjoy life, I couldn’t deny the little girl in me that anymore.

Plants line the window seals and terribly hand knitted blankets cover the white bedding I couldn’t get rid of. While it might have felt sterile at first, the sheer comfort and luxury of those sheets and blankets convinced me to keep them. Where there aren’t plants, I put candles and small lamps so I don’t have to turn on the main lights. My little haven is the complete opposite of the kitchen that feels even colder with Bucky’s cold stare but it’s mine and mine alone.

He breaks the silence before I can escape to it and watches me closely.

“Has she hurt you before?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave in an effort to not scare me off I assume. I freeze as I’m putting my dishes into the sink with my back to him. I know who he’s talking about and I know my answer but I can’t figure out why he cares.

He seems to see the hesitation in me and taps my elbow to get my attention. I’m thankful he doesn’t grab me and I suck in a breath before turning around.

He is unlike any of the other Bratva men I’m used to. The others are filthy, worn, and all around awful to be near from their lives in crime but there’s something about this man that’s different. He looks every bit of the menacing Pakhan that he is, however I still remember that laughing young man who pulled pranks on my sisters with me. The years aren’t usually kind to the children raised in Bratvas but he’s found a way to make them work in his favor and at 34, Bucky is the most respected while fearsome Pakhan this world has seen.

The kitchen light above us emphasizes the dark flecks in his blue eyes and amplifies the sun kissed hue of his skin. The dark blue threads of his eyes rival that of any ocean wave I’ve ever seen and mild concern lurks in them as they bore into me.

“Has Carol…” he starts and I interrupt him.

“No. She’s…she wasn’t like that at all. She’s never even raised her voice at me before.”

“Lisichka,” he murmurs to me and the nickname catches me by surprise.

Little fox.

“Don't call me that,” I spit out and clench my fists at my side before storming off to my room.

Little fox.

He used to call Natasha that.

[anincompletelist]

happy wip wednesday! :D

once again got caught up in the excitement of finishing up bridesmaids so have not gotten a chance to read through these yet, but THANK YOU to @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @priincebutt @onthewaytosomewhere @kiwiana-writes @suseagull04 @orchidscript @nocoastposts @littlemisskittentoes @ninzied FOR THE TAGS! I am looking forward to getting my popcorn ready and reading through all of your lovely words <3

this snippet is longer than I thought (oops) but I've been keeping this one pretty close to my chest and it has been clawing at the bars of its enclosure (the Docs) to get out into the world so HERE SHE IS:

+

“With all due respect,” Alex hesitates, “if this client needs to remain so confidential, would you not just want to… ask them what they’d want? Cut out the middle man?” He readjusts the phone where it’s caught between his ear and his shoulder, stuffing the last of the groceries into his trunk. The pay-off really would be nice. “Not that I’m turning down the job at all.” 

Bea sighs. “That’s the thing, though— he already has everything he could possibly want. It isn’t— he doesn’t much care for material things, save for a few sentimental items he already has. I’ve tried to throw him parties and I’ve tried to work with his best friend to come up with something and I’ve gotten and made him one of everything known to man and it just—” she huffs, cutting herself off. “He would never act ungrateful for anything, but he— these past few years have been difficult for him and I haven’t been as present as I should be and I know a gift isn’t going to magically make up for that but birthdays are hard for him he just deserves something really, really good.” 

“Um,” Alex blinks at the concrete. 

“God, I’m so sorry. I’ve just given you a shitload of information that you never asked for, haven’t I?” 

“No, that’s— this is good. I can work with this,” he clears his throat, nodding to himself. “And I get the whole wanting-them-to-have-something-good thing, especially when it’s a sibling.” 

Bea’s line goes silent for a moment. “... Had I mentioned that it was my brother?” 

“Oh,” he blinks, gripping the phone a bit harder, “well, no. I don’t think so. I’m sorry for assuming, I just— you were talking about him the same way my sister talks about me so I just—” 

“Alex, please,” she laughs softly. “It’s alright. I’m glad that you haven’t already hung up on me, to be honest. I’m a bit all over the place at the moment.” 

“Maybe we should get that NDA out of the way before we continue then. Then you can feel free to be as unhinged as you want.” 

She snorts. “Yes, perhaps we should.” 

“Although, if you don’t mind, I always ask my clients how they found me for research purposes. So, can I ask—?” 

“As it turns out, professional gift-giving is a highly specific occupation, and you seem to be about the only legitimate looking one that managed to come up in the Google results.”

+

OPEN TAG OPEN TAG but also! @firenati0n @affectionatelyrs @inexplicablymine @msmarvelouswinchester @bigassbowlingballhead @read-and-write- @happiness-of-the-pursuit @iboatedhere @matherines @sparklepocalypse @firstprincexo @raysletters @cricketnationrise @eusuntgratie @anchoredarchangel @rmd-writes <3333

[xoxoladyaz]

AU-gust, Day 3: Writer

TW: References to monster smut and genitalia, Shrek

Robin’s mad at him.

(Well, mad isn’t the right word. Frustrated? Annoyed? Shocked by his enduring stupidity? All of those are probably better options.)

“Seriously, dingus? You haven’t told him yet?!”

Steve anxiously ran his fingers through his no-longer perfectly-styled coif. “I’ve tried, Robin! It’s just kind of hard to tell the guy that you’re falling in love with that you write monster porn for a living!”

It had started when he was a senior in college, reeling from his break-up with Nancy and trying desperately to find anything to distract himself from his heartbreak. It was a total joke at first, trying to find the cringiest romances he could find and reading them with Robin as they got progressively more and more drunk on whatever cheap booze he’d squirreled away from Tommy that week. But then one night he found himself in bed crying when Matthias the Minotaur sacrificed his life for his one-true love and he couldn’t stand it because Matthias deserved a happy ending after everything he’d been through and Steve had read enough of these books, for fuck’s sake, he could write a better ending!

It was just a hobby for a while, a secret shame that got him through the doldrums of working for his father while trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. Steve could never keep anything from Robin, though, and while she initially teased him for writing “monster porn,” after she read one of his stories she demanded he submit it to some indie romance publishing houses and she didn’t give up until he had done so and now – well, now Steve was making a truly obscene amount of money off of his many, many monstrous and paranormal romance books (with Robin as his editor, of course) and had kissed his shitty parents goodbye.

(And if his pen name was his father’s name, which meant that anytime someone googled “Richard Harrington” the first thing that popped up were book titles like “Prisoner of the Gargoyle’s Heart” and not his father’s incredibly influential law office, well, that was just payback for twenty-five years of bullshit.)

The thing is, Steve isn’t even ashamed of it, not really. He’s always been a kinky guy, first of all, and besides, it’s not all about the sex (although his sex scenes are some of the best in the business and he hadn’t shied away from writing queer books when the rest of the world had.) What he liked most about the stories he wrote was that regardless of what his monsters had looked like, or lived through, or done in their past, or where they’d come from, they all found someone who loved them because of their differences - because of their monstrousness – and not in spite of it.

(And yeah, okay, he liked the sex stuff too. Who wouldn’t want to fuck a dragon with two dicks? Or Prince Titian, the golden-haired merman who had both sets of humanoid genitalia? Or Neptus, the half-man, half-octopus who had all those huge tentacles - )

“Dingus. Stop thinking about Neptus.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, shaking his head. “How did you - ”

“Because I know you, Steve Harrington, and there’s only one person slash fictional entity that you get that weird horny look for and honestly, I could have lived my entire life without knowing about your tentacle thing - ”

“ROBIN, it’s not – I don’t have a tentacle thing ­- ”

“ – but we can deal with your weird fetishes another day, right now we need to discuss why your boyfriend still thinks that you’re an accountant and the fact that you need to tell your boyfriend about your job so I can tell my girlfriend about my job so she understands why I need so much therapy and why I know so much about your sexual preferences - ”

“Jesus, Robin, I got it, I got it!” Steve stood and headed for his minibar. “Look, it’s not – it’s not that I don’t want to tell him, it’s just – people can get kind of weird about it.”

“Yeah, and those people suck,” Robin replied as she followed after him. “But Eddie isn’t Nancy or Tommy or Cheryl or Brad or Kel, he’s Eddie.”

“Yeah, world-famous-high-fantasy-author-Eddie-Munson! He’s, like, actually legit Robin! He’s won the Hugo Award twice!”

“He also likes to go to the Renaissance fair dressed up as a faun and annoy people by playing the pipes, Steve. And you’ve seen his weird monster dildo collection which I know you have too - ”

“I know, I know!” Steve exclaimed as he poured both himself and Robin a glass of Merlot. “I just,” Steve turned to face Robin and sighed. “I’m just scared, Robin. Like, it hasn’t even been that long but he makes me feel – I don’t even know, like, I haven’t felt this way about someone since Nancy, you know? And Eddie - this feels like it could be more than that. Like a forever sort of thing.”

Robin sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I know, dingus. And I know that people have you given you all kinds of shit in the past, but that’s not going to be Eddie. And if it is Eddie, I will kick his ass into the ocean and feed him to your squid-man.”

“Neptus isn’t a squid man, Robin - ”

/////

Robin was right, of course. Robin was always right.

(Except for when it came to best Marvel movie, she said Civil War when everyone knew that Thor: Ragnarok was the superior film.)

Anyways.

Robin was right, it was time for Steve to tell Eddie the truth. And Steve had known that too, knew that stretching it much longer than two months would probably end really, really badly, especially if Eddie didn’t take it well, but enough of his relationships (romantic and otherwise) had been ruined by people just not understanding or not caring enough to try to understand his stories or why he loved what he did, but Eddie was different. Successful and handsome and creative and intelligent? Sure, Steve had dated people who had all those qualities before. But only Eddie Munson spent hours on the phone with Steve’s friends, talking them through their D&D related problems. Only Eddie Munson showed up on their first date with flowers for Steve, when Steve was the one who normally had to go all out for his partner. 

And only Eddie Munson would learn Steve’s favorite Taylor Swift songs in his free time (instead of the latest Metallica or Ghost) because he wanted to make Steve smile, which is what Eddie was in the middle of doing when Steve finally worked up the nerve to tell him. 

“The stakes are high, the water’s rough, but this love is - ”

“Hey, uh, Eddie? I kind of need to tell you something,” Steve interrupted him as he walked into the living room, beers in hand.

Eddie stopped what he was doing at Steve’s entrance and beamed, setting his acoustic guitar off to the side. “Everything alright, angel?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I just – here,” Steve handed him a beer. He waited until Eddie had taken a sip (and swallowed) before continuing. “I, uh, well – look, we’ve been dating for two months now - ”

“Two months, three days and fourteen hours,” Eddie winked as he took another sip.

“ – and – right,” Steve flushed bright red at the look in Eddie’s eyes. “Right. Uh, anyways, we’ve been dating for two months and I just thought it was time to tell you and – okay, it’s not a big deal but it is kind of a big deal? But not what you’re probably thinking, I’m not, like, married or anything, I – I’m not an accountant, okay, I’m a writer!”

“I know.”

“ – not, like, a normal writer, I write – wait, what?” Steve gaped at Eddie. “You – what?!”

“Baby,” Eddie started slowly, his finger running in tempting circles around the rim of his beer, “you know I know people in the romance world, right?”

“I – what? You knew this whole time?”

“Yep,” Eddie shot Steve a sultry smirk along with another wink. “I knew exactly who you were when I asked you out, big boy. Or, I knew who Robin was and I put two and two together.”

“I – how?!”

“Baby, you didn’t even change your last name.”

Steve just sat there in stunned silence while Eddie continued to sip on his beer, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “But – I – and you’re okay with it?”

At that, Eddie’s smile grew a bit more serious, and he set his beer down on the coffee table so he could hold Steve’s hands in his. “Of course I am, sweetheart. You’re insanely talented, Stevie.”

“I – I write porn, Eddie. With monsters in it.”

“I know, it’s stupidly hot.”

“But you – it could hurt your career if people found out,” Steve said softly, sadly, squeezing Eddie’s hands. “People – people would give you so much shit, Eddie.”

Eddie squeezed back. “Steve, my nickname was ‘The Freak’ in high school. I was a poor kid with shitty parents who was raised in a trailer park. People have given me shit my entire life and frankly, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about what anyone said about you and your writing. If anything, people are going to ask me what the fuck someone as handsome and gifted as you is doing with someone like me.”

Steve snorted and Eddie let out a laugh. “I mean it! You’re like Prince Charming or some shit and I’m the ogre living in the swamp.”

Eddie froze for a few seconds before a maniacal grin overtook his face.

“Eddie?”

“Stevie, baby, have you ever considered a sexy Shrek retelling?”

“No. No.”

(“There’s an Ogre in His Swamp” was released on April Fool’s Day the following year. The author, Richard Harrington, posted a dedication in this book, the first of many that he would dedicate to his husband, E. W. Munson:

To my Ogre – thank you for being my happily ever after.)

[darkeralmond]

In The Spotlight

TREVOR ZEGRAS X OC

October Series

synopsis: trevor meets hayden after the game and they hang out, the next day the band has to meet with aubrey to talk about a new album

warnings: language

word count: 2.8k

Fans poured out of the Honda Center arena happy with the 4 - 1 Ducks win. I stayed inside with Mal, Alex, and Wes as I anxiously awaited Trevor to come out and greet us. I would have some doubtful thoughts here and there such as, “What if he doesn’t show up?”

Mal rested her hand on my shoulder, “I’m sure he will.” She looked around, people still everywhere. “Just stay alert for people screaming ‘Oh my God! It’s Trevor Zegras’! That’s how we know he’s close by.”

I rolled my eyes as I tried my hardest to stop the smile that threatened to break through. It didn’t help that my cheeks now flushed with bright red heat against my already pale skin. “How will he even be able to find me through this crowd of people? There’s like at least tens of thousands of people here.”

Wes then looked behind me and smiled, “Like that.”

I turned around at the squeals that broke through the crowd. Before I could grasp what was happening, a sweaty casually dressed Trevor Zegras emerged through the valley of fans in awe around him. Some asked for pictures, some asked for autographs, and the others were too stunned by his presence to do anything.

My heart rate rapidly sped up as either a pit formed in my stomach or the butterflies had come back. His sky-blue eyes were fixated on me as a smile grew on his face. “Hayden Clarke,” he said, both enthusiasm and a New York accent slipping from his voice. “It’s so nice to see you again after all this time.”

A nervous smile made itself present on my face as he went in for the hug. Oh, okay! I thought as he wrapped his arms around me. As I embraced him, two things stood out to me. The first thing was our height distance. The last time I went to the doctor’s office in February, the nurse told me I stood at 5’4 and 3/4 — which is oddly specific. Since then I’ve assumed that I’ve grown to be about 5’5. Trevor stood at around 6’0, at least according to Google, and he looked it. Compared to me, at least.

I let go of the embrace and tucked some blonde strands of hair behind my ear. “It’s nice to see you again, Trevor,” I bashfully said. I struggled to maintain eye contact with him due to how sheepish he made me feel. “Have you met my band mates?” I asked him.

He shook his head and glanced over my shoulder before letting out a chuckle, “And I don’t think I will be.” My eyebrows furrowed as I turned around and found that the three of them had vanished. Those fuckers! I turned back to Trevor and forced a laugh, masking my aggravation with them. “Looks like I get to know you more now. Did you drive here?”

“Uh, Alex did actually. We all pretty much carpool together since we live together.” I shoved my hands in my hoodie pockets while looking up at him. His expression had soften compared to him earlier on the ice.

“Well, since your friends abandoned you… would you like me to give you a ride home?” My eyes grew as wide as they could. He’s already offering me a ride home? Is he trying to be prince charming?

My mom told me to never get into cars with men I’ve never met before. She didn’t want me to pop up missing, but I have Life 360 now, so what’s the worse that can happen? “Yes, please,” I answered.

Now we had to get through the mass of fans that crowded around us, shouting and taking pictures. I squeezed closer to him as I wrapped my arm around his, letting him lead us out to where ever he parked his car at. It had to be in some player reserved area, especially with the traffic coming out of the Honda Center.

Somehow, we lost the crowd of adoring fans which felt like a sigh of relief. “I haven’t seen a crowd like that since Miami!” I laughed as I glanced up at him. I still hadn’t let go of him, it felt comforting in a way. Maybe even a bit secure.

“It always feels like I’m in a pack of sardines when I’m near that exit,” he joked. “I should’ve told you to meet me by the locker room.”

I shrugged, “I don’t even know the lay out of the arena like that. Though it was one of the venues offered to us.”

Trevor dug in his sweatpants pocket and grabbed his keys from there. “Why didn’t you?” he asked as he unlocked the car.

My arm slowly let go of his as I made my way to the passenger seat of the car. “Because we were already performing at SDSU’s amphitheater. There was really no reason to go there and then drive an hour to Anaheim.”

Trevor chuckled as he answered, “Well, so I could see you guys perform obviously.”

“Should’ve just come to the SDSU one then,” I replied in a snarky tone.

His hand flew over his chest as his mouth popped open in a comedic way. I laughed looking at the obvious fake offense on his face. “You’re really mean you know that!” He then started the car up and began backing out of his parking spot. He placed his hand on the head of the passenger seat as he turned back to guide himself.

That was really attractive for no reason I could explain. He noticed before I was able to catch myself staring at him the entire time he did this with my jaw slacked. He smirked as he put the car into drive, facing forward again. “You also have a staring problem.”

“I thought you said I was talented,” I bit back. Bickering was the only way of flirting I could perfect.

“There’s a lot of things I’ve said about you,” he replied. “Mean, talented, surprisingly funny, and really pretty.”

That caught me off guard, I looked back at him with my eyes wide. “What?”

“I would dumb not to shoot my shot with you.” He glanced over at me, stopping at a stop light. He looked over at me, the red light being the only thing illuminating his face in the dark. “I tried to at your first gig, but you wouldn’t give up on caring that speaker back to the truck.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t have you do that. That’s how I met Aubrey and got us our record deal.” I glanced down at his phone which was plugged into the car and then back up at him. “I need your phone to put my address into, unless you already know where I live and avidly stalk me without my knowledge.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor said as he put in his passcode and gave the phone to me. The light flickered green and Trevor stepped on the gas pedal. “You might as well put your number in there as well.”

A smile cracked on my face as a giggle slipped out. He was such a smooth talker, it made me want to scream. I put the address into Waze, the directions immediately popping up on the car’s screen, then did as he told me to. I put my number into his phone before placing it in the cup holder.

“Is there anything you want me to get you to eat before I drop you off?” he asked, again glancing over at me with his bedroom eyes.

“Uh,” I hummed. “There’s an In-and-Out burger near my house. I only had popcorn at the game.”

“Thank God, Hay. I’m starving,” Trevor said as he turned in the direction the app told him to. I’m already Hay to him? That’s cute.

🎶

After I came home from hanging out with Trevor, I couldn’t sleep. Nothing happened like a kiss or anything, but the tension was unreal and that was only the first hang out. He wanted to meet again at Pearson Park on Sunday with Jamie and Mal. I agreed without any hesitation, especially since Mal would kill me if I ruined her opportunity to meet another Ducks player.

Now it was the afternoon and I sat on the couch, scrolling through Twitter. There were posts left and right about Trevor and I during and after the game. People were now speculating a possible relationship between us, which I now wouldn’t be opposed to.

One of the posts was from someone with a Trevor Zegras profile picture. They posted a picture they took of their TV screen showing my phone which said ‘Meet me after the game!’ and Trevor responding to it. The caption said:

THIS IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE!!!’

When I went onto Instagram, an Anaheim Ducks fanpage posted the same thing except it was the highlight and with the announcers. One of the guys said, “And there’s Hayden Clarke, lead singer of Pink Slip, shooting her shot with Zegras right there.”

“Technically he shot his shot first when he did that interview with Gina,” the other one responded.

It was kind of funny to see how viral this has already gone, and we haven’t even done anything.

Wes came out of his room with his burrito blanket wrapped around him. He yawned loudly before announcing his presence, “Good morning.” He had bags under his eyes and his hair was an absolute mess. I beamed at him and nodded my head, “Good morning!”

“Uh oh,” Wes laughed. “What did you and Trevor get into?”

I rolled my eyes with red cheeks and got up from the couch. I watched as Wes grabbed a mug from the cabinet and placed it beneath the coffee machine. “Nothing! I promise!” I pulled myself onto the counter and swayed my feet. “We just got food last night and we talked. He’s really sweet.”

“Is he boyfriend material?” Wes asked as the machine dispensed coffee for him.

“Okay. One, don’t ever say ‘boyfriend material’ again. Two, yes he is!” I chirped. “He said I was pretty and he did that sexy thing that guys do when they back out of parking spots and —” I heard my phone begin to ring, cutting my off from my talk about Trevor. Disappointment swept across Wes’s features as he was intrigued to hear more about my night with Trevor. I checked who was calling and saw it was Aubrey. I picked up the phone and put it up to my ear. “Hey, Aubrey. What's up?” I answered.

“Hey, Hayden!” she responded, “Is there any time I can see you all later today at the studio?” Wes leaned against the island next to me as he listened in on Aubrey and I’s conversation. He took a long sip of his black coffee.

I put the phone on speaker before I replied, “Uh, yeah! Alex and Mal get back around 2.” Mal and Alex were early birds unlike Wes and I, so they had gotten up early to get brunch. “It’s only Wes and I right now.”

“Hi, Aubrey!” Wes said to her.

“Hi, Wes!” she replied, I could hear the smile on her face. She always had one. “I should be free around then. I’ll give you a call if anything changes,” Aubrey said.

With that, I said bye and hung up the phone. Wes pulled himself up on the counter and said, “I wonder if she’s gonna talk about Trevor.” He then gasped and playfully hit me, “What if she says you two should date for publicity?”

“Who said it would be for publicity?” I shrugged my shoulders while smiling.

“Don’t tell me you’re already falling for him,” he said with a chuckle.

I placed a finger over my lips and simply shushed him. I snagged the mug from his hands and took a swig. The bitter hot coffee made my nose crinkle as the boiling liquid ran down my throat. “This stuff is poison. I don’t know how you can drink plain black coffee.”

🎶

We entered Hillister at 2:03 PM and made our way to the control room where we found Aubrey glued to her phone like a screenager. She sat on the rolly chair while on her phone. She perked her head up like a dog when we entered the room. “Hey, guys! Sit down! I have stuff to talk about.” She gestured us to a couch that would she still believed would fit all of us — which it never did.

I crammed in between Mal and Wes. “Okay, we need to talk about new music.” She clasped her hands together and leaned toward us. “You guys haven’t released an album since last year, let alone a single. The fans are expecting stuff from you guys. Especially you, Hayden.”

“Me?” I asked.

“Yes!” Aubrey exclaimed. “There’s so much buzz about you and Trevor. It’s all I’ve seen on my feed. Which good job by the way, he’s a cutie.” Mal nudged me with her elbow and cooed as I rolled my eyes, though I struggled to hide my smile. “I’m gonna call up Kayla and see if I can get her down here sometime this week to discuss ideas,” she said as she pulled out her phone.

Kayla was older than all of us, but younger than Aubrey. I loved her songwriting abilities. Not only was she was good, but it gave us less work to do. That was sort of the problem though. The music didn’t feel authentic when performing. I just equivalated it to performing a cover of a song no one knows.

“Uh, Aubrey?” I spoke up and shifted in my spot again. She perked her head up and let out a hum. “Could we try something new…?”

“Oh, you want someone else?” Aubrey tilted her head to the side slightly, her phone lowering as she looked at me. “I can find someone with a new sound, it’ll probably just take about 2 weeks instead of this one.”

I shook my head. “No. I, uh,” I stuttered and looked over at Alex and Mal who were looking at me just as confused as Aubrey. “I was wondering kind of wondering if we could, maybe, start writing our own music.”

“Huh?!” Alex asked aloud, his eyebrows knitted together. I could hear the loud slap he had received on his arm from Mal due to his verbal shock.

If you would’ve suggested to me a year ago writing music for ourselves, I would’ve said no. I was, and still am, sort of embarrassed by the stuff I came up with growing up. I also wasn’t the type of person to suddenly change my mind especially on stuff this big, but something about writing our own music just made sense. It’s why I wanted to form a band in the first place. “Are you sure, Hayden?” she asked.

I looked over at the three of them before answering, “Yes. I just feel it would really challenge us as a band and make our music feel more personal. It’s a better way for us to connect with our fanbase.”

She placed her phone down on her lap and nodded her head, “Uh, yeah! If you guys think you can do it. I would love it, but let’s get into details,” Aubrey said as she adjusted her position in her own seat. “I want to be able to have everything recorded by the end of November, mid December at the latest. I want something to put out by Spring of next year.” She spun around and grabbed her keyboard from the empty chair next to her and wrote down the requirements. At least a 10 track album, something to do with love as it could really promote sales.

She also wanted us to go on tour again, but she said logistics of that would be determined around spring when the album is planned to drop. She wanted it to be bigger and better than the previous tour we had over the summer.

“Hayden,” Aubrey placed both her hands down on the clipboard and again stared right at me. “I believe you will be America’s next punk pop princess, this band will be remembered for decades to come.”

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by the absolutely lovely @staceymcgillicuddy and my wondrous darling @pearlypairings - thank you both! 🥰

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

15, 13 of which are complete and the last two very nearly finished. 😭

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

365,528 and counting. I’m a rambler!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Stranger Things… nothing else has grabbed my attention quite the way s4 did.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

With a Little Help From My Friends (my ultra-long found family fic)

Why Should I Cry For You (that one surprised me, it came from way behind!)

Not-so-iron Maiden (Eddie & Max sibling supremacy)

Tattoos and Trash Talk (Eddie and El bonding)

the shield and the shepherd (my very first fic! Eddie and Chrissy falling in love without Vecna in the way)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I’m absolutely tickled every time somebody likes something I wrote enough that they take the time to leave me a comment about it. I’ve even made a few friends that way!

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Into the Shining Sun? Even then, it’s angst with a very hopeful note to it. There’s enough angst in my real life; I like everything in my fics to turn out okay.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

So far, With a Little Help, because it ended with Eddie and Chrissy’s wedding!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, I haven’t. I honestly think it will break my heart if it ever happens. I stumbled completely by accident across a post here on tumblr hating on GreatMage and I literally cried about that for two days. (Shameful!)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, I live firmly in the fluff zone. All of my fics are rated a very mild T.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Haven’t tried one yet, but maybe someday, if I can think of a good idea!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. How would I even know that? 🤔

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, but @pearlypairings and I have kicked around a few fun ideas and someday we are going to make Clarkelley happen!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

This is a nearly impossible question.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I’ve only got two WIPs and they’re both almost done, so— none!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Omg, I don’t even know, honestly. Umm… I guess building friendships and relationships between characters?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Anything outside of my comfort zone. I have a tiny little box I tend to stay in, and refuse to even try branching out.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

With the help of Google Translate, I’ve scattered some bits of Welsh dialogue here and there throughout Next Time I Fall. Apparently I got most of it wrong. So I don’t think I’ll try any other languages unless I’m actually familiar with them!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably X-Files? And then there was that random embarrassing NSYNC stuff… we won’t talk about that. Those were all just scribbled in old journals, though. I never actually posted anything publicly until I found Ao3 last year.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I think each one is my favorite while I’m working on it! But I think I have to say Next Time I Fall, because the response to it was so much more than I expected, and people’s engagement with and investment in the story has given me so much joy.

Randomly tagging @tnmdfhgkg @saltyseagoat83 @sokkas-first-fangirl

and for anyone else who sees this and feels like sharing, 🫵 *boop* I tag you!

[spaghettibabie]

Okay besties so lately I’ve been super fixated on trying to find different geoglyphs and other cool geological features on Google Earth

I’ve been especially interested in the Nazca lines and it was kinda hard finding a lot of them??? I still haven’t found all of them lmao there are so many :’) but when I was trying to find them at first I was super frustrated because I tried looking up some coordinates and I couldn’t find ANYTHING so I basically said “FINE I’LL FIND THEM MYSELF 😠😠😠😠😠” and now I’ve got a decent amount of coordinates for anyone who might want them :p

Hummingbird: 14°41'31"S 75°08'55"W

Condor: 14°41'51"S 75°07'34"W

Heron: 14°41'08"S 75°06'49"W

Parrot: 14°41'22"S 75°06'27"W

Lizard: 14°41'34"S 75°06'50"W

Spider: 14°41'38"S 75°07'20"W

Flower: 14°41'37"S 75°07'06"W

Tree: 14°41'38"S 75°06'52"W

Hands: 14°41'40"S 75°06'49"W

Orca: 14°40'42"S 75°05'56"W

Spiral: 14°40'47"S 75°06'06"W

Monkey: 14°42'25"S 75°08'19"W

Dog: 14°42'23"S 75°07'50"W

Cat: 14°42'26"S 75°06'09"W

Whale: 14°48'59"S 74°59'41"W

Astronaut: 14°44'42"S 75°04'47"W

So if ur trying to find them like I was and ur a little stuck u can use these 🤩 HAVE FUN xx

[munchee-academic]

Helpful study/ productivity tips from your friendly neighborhood dark academic

These are just the tricks that have personally helped me and if you haven’t tried it before give it a whirl 👍🏽

Download and play ‘library ambiance’ sounds in the background as you work.

The most productive I’ve ever been was in my university library and since I won’t have access to it anymore after graduating, why not recreate it at home? This is especially good if lo-fi study music is too distracting for you. Background sounds like papers rustling, writing, keyboard typing always gets me in the zone.

Download the Google Drive and Google Docs apps and do your work on your phone.

I’ve found the familiarity of my phone’s keyboard makes me focus more and type faster. It’s really helped me get work done when I’m just not in the mood to sit at my study desk.

Write like garbage in your first draft.

When you just can’t get yourself to type that first sentence; write like you’re trying to get your point across in the most garbage way possible. It immediately makes your task way less threatening when you see the funny shit you’ve written and it gives you something to work on. I’ve always found this easier than trying to write perfectly on the first try.

Do anything but look at a screen during your study breaks.

Study breaks are supposed to make you feel refreshed and break the monotonous cycle of staring at your laptop screen. When I used to let my breaks be more screen time (i.e. checking social medias) I always got back to work feeling even more tired and drained because my mind didn’t consider it a break or a change in pace. Now my breaks usually consists of making myself a snack, having internal monologues with myself, doing kpop/ tiktok dances, and annoying my partner.

Read backwards.

If you’re having a hard time concentrating as you read paragraphs of information; try reading the last paragraph first, and then working your way up till you get to the first paragraph. This usually breaks the monotonous forward rhythm of reading and your mind wakes up at the idea of doing a task differently.

[andromedasummer]

hey hey sorry to bother but you mentioned having an upper body/arm workout you enjoy and if you’re alright with sharing it can i ask what you do? i’ve tried so many and still haven’t found one i enjoy (i blame using my experienced rock climbing friends as a baseline for what i should be able to do lol) so would love to try smth else out !

oh i dont have specific routines, mostly i use an app called fiton (for most my exercise actually) but for arms i do like these specific exercises:

- Tricep dips (a set of 10 twice, using a chair or bed)

- isometic holds of all kinds (usually 30 seconds at a time one arm at a time)

- hammer curls (i like all curls tbh theyre simple. 2-3 sets of 30)

- overhead tricep extension (holding one for dumbell) (2 sets of these about 15 times. i find tricep exercises very satisfying and my favorite to do)

- any lying down exercises for when my body really isnt happy today. tricep extensions, skull crushers, anything really.

- kickbacks!!!! love kickbacks theyre good for your bicep and tricep. again i really like tricep exercises.

id say a good idea would be looking up the specific parts of muscles in your arms (like specific areas in the biceps, triceps etc, theres 3/4 for each i think?), finding exercises that work on those specific areas, trying them out to find the most enjoyable ones and then doing a set of each the way through two-three times. also giving your arms a day or two to recover because your arm and shoulder etc muscles are small as hell and tire QUICK and they will hurt like hell the next day

take ur time and build up to it and remember that every single exercise has alterations. googling their name and alterations and youll find plenty of different ways to do it and complete and target these areas without pushing yourself too hard and hurting yourself.

its better to take baby steps into this and start only doing one set then two then three than trying to throw yourself in there. more likely than not you wont be able to do it or do it completely and that will kill your enthusiasm. do fun stuff or stuff you feel has an effect and your bodys own pace and stop when things hurt. a sore body after a workout is normal and your body is making sure it can do better next time you do. a broken body spending its time on healing will not get stronger or raise your endurance. exercise should be a fun celebration of your body and not a painful chore.

[ao3userforgets]

i’m back with more fic writing behind the scenes because i can not shut up about it apparently and also i’m neurotic. i’ll put it under the cut for your reading displeasure 🫡

i’m currently writing even More trauma for poor dear ol’ gale, because i’ve decided that i want to :) and the whole working on oil fields thing had me thinking… why not throw in some workplace related trauma Before his place of work was an actual war. i’m taking some of the barely touched on details of gales life and fucking running with them for this fic. i guess what i’m saying is if anyone so happens to be an oil drilling expert, please know that i tried to google to the best of my abilities and i’ve decided that actually i’m going to make my description of the workings of such an operation as vague as possible, and focus more on the aforementioned trauma. rip osha you would have hated me writing briefly about some poor kid biting it in the name of fucking up blorbo from my shows 🫶

i’ve watched a lot of documentaries and videos on the deepwater horizon and byford dolphin tragedies in the past because that’s the kind of thing i’m into i guess, so i’m aware that shit can go very fucking sideways in awful fashion. but do i actually know anything about drilling? fuck no. especially not a century ago. but let me tell you, googling an occupation should not pull up that many injury lawyers, though it did give me something to work with that isn’t quite so extreme as a catastrophic failure. i’ve kept the whole ordeal pretty brief and i’m only really including it in a conversation between gale and john (call it constructive trauma dumping in the face of the carnage of war) but i think it’s an absolutely fascinating facet of gale’s character that i wanted to include in some way while acknowledging how dangerous doing that job is and how it would affect a person working in that environment and seeing horrific injury and even death, just because you clocked in that day. i am just Not the guy to pull off writing the ins and outs of the oil fields of wyoming. if it was mechanics or mining or sheering then maybe you’d get more from me, but where i’m from they haven’t found a whole lot of oil, apparently. so instead i’m doing what i hate to do, and that’s saying “eh, good enough” and doing what i can with what i have. and telling the people that live in my phone all about it :) i hope you don’t mind that i’m insane about something that i really do not need to be insane about.

[lapseinart]

And God saw the light, that it was good

FYI I’m not a practicing Catholic (Schrödinger’s Catholic) (I’m agnostic unless my parents ask) and I speedran my First Communion + First Confession + Confirmation so I’m basing this off 6 years of Religous Ed. crammed into 6 months and 15 minutes of googling Christianity in Japan. Yee

Okimura Rin is a dutiful Christian.

Mostly.

Some of the time.

Okay, so not really, but he definitely goes to Sunday mass more often than Yukio and he always helps out around the monastery and he goes to confession once a month, so, really, between him and Yuki, he’s definitely the more dutiful Christian.

Yeah, sure, sometimes he struggles with the theological virtues and the cardinal ones, and if he thinks about the fruits of the Holy Spirit, he isn’t exactly great at patience, gentleness, or self-control… but he tries his best, and he’s pretty sure God appreciates it anyway. Because He is all loving. All forgiving.

It’s hard to think about God when his demonic heritage is revealed. He’s the son of Satan. The offspring of evil incarnate. Why would God let him exist? How could he be anything but damned?

It’s Monday. Rin is alone.

The worse thoughts always come to haunt him when it’s quiet. They prey on him when he’s alone, without any friends to distract him. Not that he has any friends anymore after he revealed Satan’s flames. How could anyone accept something so stupid, so useless, when they were going to Hell either way? Why the hell did he bother?

He needs to get out.

He scribbles a hasty note in case Yukio comes home while he’s gone (not fucking likely he’s never home he hates you-) grabs his keys and wallet and goes wandering around the campus.

Somehow, he walks for what feels like hours but may have only been a few minutes before he finds himself outside a small church. He’s never seen it before, tucked into the little alley like it is. It’s open for confessions.

Rin walks in.

“It’s been…” he wracks his brain as he tries to make himself comfortable in the confessional, “six months since my last confession.” It felt like so much more.

“I haven’t been going to services,” he starts and it’s like he can’t stop. “I’ve fought with my brother more often than usual. I harmed one of my teachers during a training session. My dad died because of me. I… found out I was the son of an evil man,” he explains inadequately. “I’m damned. For these and all my sins, I am heartily sorry.”

The priest is silent for a moment.

“It sounds like you’ve been going through a lot,” he says gently.

“Yeah,” Rin croaks, and it’s only just not a sob.

“How did your father die?”

“He… he was protecting me,” Rin says softly, “from… my biological father.”

“Then I think that he wouldn’t be happy with you stewing in guilt,” the priest says. “Just because your father is evil doesn’t mean that you are evil.”

“But I’m like him!” Rin says, desperately. “I-I-I hurt people!”

“Do you want to do it?” the priest says calmly. “Do you want to hurt people?”

“No,” Rin whispers.

“You are a child of God,” the priest proclaims. “You renounce sin and seek to do good. There is no penance for being the son of a bad man. Try to attend Mass more often. Your penance is three Hail Marys and two Our Fathers. You may now say your Act of Contrition.”

Rin walks out of the church feeling lighter than he has before, like a burden has been taken from him, the reassurance that he can be good if he chooses to be. He feels… different, lighter, after getting it all out of his chest, even if it was inadequately explained to a stranger in a confessional booth. It’s different to have to convince the whole world that he isn’t his father then it is to have someone else tell him he isn’t evil.

You are a Child of God.

You are a Child of God.

Rin takes solace in those words. They’re right. They have to be.