#and it’s so. blech. gross. ugh

[ioannemos]

mixing my whole milk with the landlady's fat free milk to make. milk

[lacrimosathedark]

Question for my fellow asexuals: is it "normal" to be grey or demi and also be sex-repulsed? Or like...part-time sex-repulsed?

Because I feel like I'm like...situationally sex-repulsed?

I have never been comfortable with even the thought of sex. I personally hate when movies have scenes of it even though you don't really see anything, I cringe and try to cover my eyes and ears or full on walk out of the room. I've only recently started to be not disgusted by sexual images. The sheer amount of pwp fanfiction annoys the fuck out of me. The thought of participating, in general, makes me wanna crawl out of my skin and bleach it because of all the body fluids and physical contact and just BLECH. And don't even get me started on the fucking noises ugh literally fucking gagging rn.

Like the whole thing makes me vaguely nauseous.

But I often can read it just fine, and I find I enjoy it if there's a romantic context and/or buildup to it. And if I think about participating in that kind of context it seems...interesting if nothing else. Like, not nearly as revolting as it sounds otherwise.

So I'm not always grossed out by it. Just about 90% of the time.

I just wanna know if that's like, "normal" or if it's a me thing. I know I'm weird but I like to know when I'm weird because I'm me and when I'm weird because I don't know how other people work lol

[mashithamel]

Lover At Last: JR Ward, Black Dagger Brotherhood

* Ok, I’m impressed with just how hard JR Ward is leaning into Qhuinn being the black sheep of the family. They make signs against evil *every time they see him*? He has to take the servant’s stairs? His room is as far from everyone else’s as possible, and only not with the doggen because *the staff would quit* if they did? Sheesh. Like, if he just moved in permanently with Blay’s family would they even notice or care? Oh, I guess they’re hoping the transition will take care of it and are hanging on until then.

* Heh. The new fore-lesser makes new recruits bring their own jars. Though with the way he’s recruiting I guess it would wind up being a significant expense.

* Is this entire book going to be Blay and Qhuinn pining for each other while assuming it’s completely unrequited? Because Layla and Saxton both know what’s up and I would like this to just move along and finish crushing my poor, sweet, Saxton’s heart, thank you very much.

* Trez and iAm back story! I am here for it. These guys are cool.

* Saxton is a perfect gentleman through his broken heart. 💔 Such a grown up break up 😭

* Trust Jane, Layla!

* I was ready to give Havers another chance, given how gently he treated Layla initially. But holy cow. Bowtie hatred continues to be supported, and the man needs to be immediately replaced. Ugh. Just, eww. Can Phury give him a beat down?

* Qhuinn a Brother!!! Deserved for a long time!

* Blay’s mom is the best.

* Ooo! Honesty! Let’s see why this goes badly.

* Yeah, that’s how.

* Layla! 😭😭😭 “It was just so…damned sad. The whole fucking thing. …it was just some seriously sad goddamned business.”

* This is just a crazy night for Qhuinn. On every front.

* Oh my god. I hate medicine with disparate care based on income/importance. If my regular hospital bed isn’t good enough for the VIP, it’s not good enough for Joe-Shmoe off the street either. Havers is just shreding any and all potential for any future good will.

* Naturally Blay and Saxton are healthy exes. I would expect nothing less from the two of them.

* Twenty minutes? God, these guys. I’m pretty sure that would kill a person. Or at least leave them dehydrated.

* Wrath, I’m thinking you should open your mouth and make sure Beth is on the same page as you before you go making assumptions like that.

* “You and I are sisters in my mother’s tyranny—casualties of her grand plan for the way things must be.” Preach the Scribe Virgin hate, Payne. You have my full support.

* I think providing the Lessening Society the means to enrich themselves, and therefore to more successfully kill your kind, has got to be some sort of death-penalty level treason.

* Oooo! Which Chosen has Trez laid eyes on?

* Blay. Tell Qhuinn you are broken up, are not cheating, and are available already! I’m not a fan of this idea that Blay is totally fine with cheating on Saxton.

* Oh look, shockingly Beth is on a totally different page from Wrath about kids. Better actually talk instead of assuming, and do it soon with all those hormones flying around.

* Saxton needs to take off the bowtie because I like him and I don’t want my well-founded (thus far) spite for the things to color my take on him.

* I am having Wheel of Time flashbacks with this naked-ceremony stuff, lol. At least it’s the guys this time, I guess?

* How is it that drinking blood in a skull is gross, in a vampire story? Don’t know why it’s different from a vein, but blech.

* I do not care about this sexual tension between a drug lord and a burgler—I need Blay and Qhuinn to kiss it out, now!

* While I love Layla very much, I am so not on board with her obsession with Xcor. Give me Blay and Qhuinn!

* “Because I was, and I remain, utterly and completely and totally…in love with you.” Finally! Oh, I love them!

* “On that note, they held each other close, started moving together in perfect harmony… …and lived happily ever after.” Yay!

Bottom line: Finally!

Rating: five out of five unnecessarily painful ceremonies

[composerbutnevercomposed]

Reading Recap - April

This month I read way less books than last month, I only got through 4, but to be quite honest I also picked up a lot of books and put them down as well.

** Spoilers Ahead! **   

★★★★★

Lights Out - ★★

Okay, so I ended up picking this up on a whim while picking up the Ruinous Love Trilogy, and read this before I read the other two in the series. It was okay? I was honestly kind of embarrassed to add this to my recap because it's so corny. I think the way I’d put it is “exactly what I expected based on all the reviews.” I didn’t find it as funny as others did, but I feel like most of the humor was able to shine more in the audiobook? The plot was basically non-existent besides “I’m being stalked by my favorite TikTok thirst trap account,” but at the same time it didn’t need to be anything more than that. I somewhat liked that the female main character pretty much figured out that Josh (the masked love interest) was Josh within the first 3 chapters of them being a thing, and how there was no doubt in her mind it was him lol. It’s a lot of smut, a lot of fake-tough dude stuff, not much else to say.

Leather and Lark - ★★½

God, I really wanted to like this more. This is the book that comes after “Butcher and Blackbird,” and it really just misses the mark for me. Lachlan (male love interest) is so under-developed besides being “grumpy” and “the older brother” and the arranged marriage he’s in with Lark is so hare-brained it’s unfunny. It’d be one thing if it was a flimsy excuse that set up a good “enemies to lovers” romance, but they literally so quickly begin to like each other you have to roll your eyes. Another thing that drove me crazy is that they literally kill off what is set up to be the main antagonist in the series in the second book , so that in third book (see below) they have to create a new antagonist with even less weight who also wants everyone dead (gasp). Also, their “nicknames” for each other our as follows: Duchess, Blunder Barbie ‘feckin’ catastrophe, and Budget Batman. Blech.  The one thing I did like about the book was how the two main characters met in the first place and set up their antagonistic relationship.

Scythe and Sparrow - ★★★½

This was the better of the final two books in this series, but still no where a close to good as the first. I felt like all of the characters were well set up, it was an interesting premise, but at this point I was kind of bored? Especially since this was a flashback book, a lot of the scenes were scenes from the book that involved the two main characters but from a different perspective. It just left a lot to be desired when most of the back-half had very few new scenes for the series. And Fionn! Ugh what a disappointment, he’ a male love interest literally made for me (doctor, crocheter, reality TV junkie) and I was so bored because we already knew everything about him from the first two. Also, just a fair warning if you do read this: people pearl-clutch about a lot of “gross” scenes in these books, but genuinely this only one that made me actually go “ew.” Good, but not great.

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Faeries - ★★★★

What a great turn of events after a bunch of meh! Total Sophie + Howl vibes, if you get my drift. Emily is your typical Evelyn O’Connel-type Victorian protagonist, with a degree in fairy-shit. And her love interest Wendell Bambleby, is an arrogant, lazy probably-fairy academic rival to her, who annoys her to no end (until he doesn’t). I was initially put-off by the prose in the introduction (she definitely leaned to hard into Austenian-esque prose to make you know This Is Historical Fiction), but I found the book hit it’s stride about a quarter of the way in. Low stakes, lots of humor, and really beautiful descriptions of the fantastical Icelandic fairies the author came up with. And the romance was adorable. It’s a series, however I don’t know if I’m going to pick up the next one right away? I liked it but I didn’t love it, and I have other books I want to read right now.

Currently Reading

Slow Days, Fast Company by Eve Babitz

This has been really good so far! I’m about half-way through, and I love how this memoir reads like fiction. You don’t realize Eve, the narrator isn’t the main character because she believes she’s the main character. Her prose and descriptions of California are lush without being pretentious, it’s succinct. Circling back to the original point I made, I think that’s the key to why this is working so much for me: Eve believes everything she’s telling you with her whole heart, and it makes you believe as well. Should be quick to finish, I just haven’t yet. 

May TBR

Lot of repeats here from last month, probably will happen again 

Johnathan Strange and Mr. Norrel  & Cruel Prince, carrying over from last month.

The Starless Sea - I brought my copy with me for my trip at the start of this month, fingers crossed!

Deep Cuts - I kept seeing this book at Barnes & Noble, and I finally said “fuck it” and bought it cuz it’s so up my alley

James - I feel like I have to read this at this point, every person who’s a reader I know has been raving about it.

[blackjackkent]

Rescuing Lae'zel has one last fun little wrinkle in the form of requiring a lockpick with DC of 25 in order to actually get her off the Altar of Bhaal. Luckily Hector has a lot of lockpicks and 4 levels of rogue so this is not a gamechanger for us, but still annoying. :P

I may end up writing a drabble here on Hector waking her up because the actual scene is two lines and not particularly emotionally resonant. XD We'll go back to camp first and see if there's a better scene there, though.

Looting Orin's body, we get a number of fun items. One of them (perplexingly and for no obvious reason) is a studded leather +2 armor set. The second is HER armor set, which is labeled "Mutilated Carapace":

Gross. It's clothing-weight, which means Hector, Minsc, and Karlach could all wear it; they're not going to do that, but it sure is a Look:

We also get a Legendary-level shortsword called "Crimson Mischief," which is a pretty dope name and also has special benefits as an offhand weapon, which means it goes to Jaheira in place of one of her scimitars.

There are a few Bhaalists still hanging around who were, I suppose, just watching the fight; none of them seem particularly broken up about her having died. I guess this isn't surprising.

Wandering down behind the battle arena, we get another brainquake and another visit from the Absolute:

-from-- -bonds-- -FREE!-- -NO--more-- -a- --SLAVE--

--LIBERATORS-- --saviors--pawns-- --DUPES--

-fools-- ---RELEASED-- -usefulness-- --ended-- targeted --KILLED!--

DEATH-------UNAVOIDABLE

So y'know. That's cheerful.

I assume that means that through the mountain of upcoming sidequests, we're going to be getting hit by angry cultists or mind flayers or otherwise dogged through the city streets in some fashion. Sorry, Hec. :(

At the very far back we're able to break into Orin's room, which is predictably blood-smeared.

Unsettling book in a chest near the bed:

I'm not actually entirely sure how to interpret this one but it's definitely creepy.

Blech. >.< There's still the brain ahead of us, but taking Orin and Gortash out of the picture sure seems like a net positive.

And finally, against one wall:

Ugh.

We read a bit about her in one of the books we found near Sarevok - that Helena was her daughter and Orin their incestuous child. It looks as if Orin may have killed her here.

On the other hand, based on this document in the nearby wardrobe, it doesn't seem like she was really any peach either:

Terrible people. Good job, Hector.

[flyingspicerack]

10 7 39 32 HHII AEROO ^w^

10: Want any piercings? MMM yes I'd like some more!! I have the standard lobes on each ear (they used to be gauged to like 0, but then let them shrink back to normal so I could wear normal earrings) and my septum done. I want to get a bridge, and also industrial bars on my ears BUT i hear that industrials can be uncomfortable piercings to have if you wear over the ear headphones so that would be a problem for me... hrm...

7: Have tattoos? I do! I have 3! I'm willing to take pictures sometime! I have one on my left forearm that reads "Keep your eyes open" , one on my right forearm that is an ornate arrow with a moon, the aries constellation, a stylized aries symbol, and hanging beads, and a quarts crystal cluster on my right thigh colored in blue, purple, and pink

39 here

32: What words upset me the most UGH Idk if this is supposed to be like... when people are upset by the word 'moist' or 'panties' or if its supposed to be like... something that would upset me/hurt my feelings but...

i HATE the word 'naughty' it feel soooo gross to me ... blech

[fromtheshadowsnyc2]

Entry 2: The Delivery

[*Most dividers are credited to @saradika-graphics]

[Green Divider is credited to @firefly-graphics]

Not long after I knock, the door to the townhouse opens.

“Well, it’s about time ya got here, we’re starvi—oh. Oh, hello,” drawls a tall guy with slicked back dirty blond hair. He’s dressed only in a toga and smiling down at me in a way that makes my insides feel all oily. “Didn’t realize we ordered an extra snack with our pizza…lucky us.”

I keep my face schooled in a blank expression, even as every nerve of mine is recoiling in disgust. Ugh, why are college guys so sleazy? Especially towards teenage girls? Ick. Ick, ick, blech.

“5 large orders of the Gino’s special,” I drone. “That’ll be eighty dollars, please.”

“Oof, that’s a lot! How ‘bout you come join the party? Really get your money’s worth.” He let out a mindless chortle, his cheeks flushing as his laughter becomes breathless. Then he pauses to think before giving me a look. “Hang on, you’re eighteen, right? Or at least legal-ish?”

God, fuck you. Fuck you and your gross frat country club cronies, I seethe while taking a deep breath. Up the ass—with a chainsaw.

“If you don’t have the money, I’ll just take the pizzas back—”

“Shit, relax, babe. Just a joke. Tch, bitches can’t take jokes anymore. Here!” He slams a crisp Ben Franklin in my palm. With a shrug, he adds, “Keep the change. Buy yourself something nice or whatever…”  

I pause to check the bill, making sure it’s legit. Satisfied, I nod and shift my weight to hand him the pizzas. Then I turn on my heel, pocketing the money in my official Gino’s fanny pack.

“Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen,” I drone out, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Alpha beta sigma, something-something.”

“Uh, actually our name is—”

I genuinely don’t care. If he’s continued to correct me on their name or their greeting or whatever, I already have it blanked out when I get back to the old car Gino uses for pizza delivery. It’s an old worn out sedan with images of pizza painted onto it, with the obnoxious logo for the pizzeria on the hood. Basically a copy-paste of something straight out of the 1980s. Old Gino is sentimental that way.

Slamming the door closed, I take a moment to rest my forehead against the wheel. The coolness of the leather does little for the headache starting to pulse from my skull. But I still pick my head up, trying to get back my focus. I quickly start the car and back out of the little neighborhood NYU and its students have claimed a monopoly on, starting the drive back to the pizzeria.

Hopefully, that’s the last delivery of the night.

Spoiler alert: It’s not.

“Oi, youngblood!” Gino rasps from behind the counter as I walk in, his Italian accent thick and gruff as ever. “Don’t get too comfy, we got another one. And they’re a longtime regular, too, so don’t fuck up!”

God, I want to die. What did I do in a past life to put up with this? Am I this desperate for money, honestly?

It doesn’t take long for me to come up with the answer myself. Remember, I’m a poor teenager coming from the Bronx, who happens to be attending a school where most of the students walk around like they’re royalty and we’re just the ants breathing their air. A poor teenager who plans on going to college next year. A poor teenager with a mom who is on her feet sixty hours a week to be able to feed me and my brothers, as well as provide us with health insurance and other benefits. A poor teenager coming from a household barely making it on that one major income, ever since Dad—well, you can guess. 

Of course, I’m desperate for money.

I sigh and nod. “Yeah, boss. What’s the order?”

“Six pies, three pepperoni and three extra cheese.”

 “Is it ready, yet?”

“Just came out of the oven. Carlos is boxin’ ‘em as we speak,” he says, pointing a thumb at his husband, an old Puerto Rican man working in the kitchen—also the main reason I was able to get this job in the first place.

Carlos sends me a grin. “¡Hola muñeca! ¿Cómo está tu mamá?”

I return the warm smile, though I feel a bit shy. I still get nervous talking to him.

“Bien, estamos todos bien, tío.”

“That’s good to hear! Hang on, lemme help you bring these pizzas to the car,” Carlos says once everything is packed in a bag.

I nod in acceptance and follow behind him. Then I call back to Gino.

“Be right back, boss!” 

“Yeah, yeah…”

My great-uncle Carlos is a long lost relative on my mother’s side. Neither my mom nor me know the whole story, but from what my abuela described, Carlos had run away from home roughly forty or so years ago and stayed out of contact until about five years ago, while my abuela was dying. Considering how long he’s been with Gino, I can hazard a guess as to what that was about—but I’m not going to pry. Far as great-uncles go, he’s pretty cool and he’s been good to me. That’s more than enough.

“—So, little warning about this delivery.”

Uh-oh.

“What kind of warning?”

“The location is a little…odd, to start with.”

“Real specific, tío.” I take a look at the address scrawled on the receipt and narrow my eyes. “Is that longitude and latitude?”

He types into his cell phone. “When you put it in your GPS, it automatically becomes this….”

When he shows me, some tension in my shoulders ease. It's still in the city, and not too far away. But still…

“What’s so weird about it?”

“Well, it’s in an alley.”

I pause to give him a look. “As in an alley where the door to their apartment is, or…”

“¡No sé!” He shrugs. “They’ve been ordering from us for about ten years and we’ve never seen them in person. All communication is either through phone or an intercom.”

“Huh.” That is a bit weird, but I dunno if that’s worth making a big deal over. So I shrug. “Doesn’t sound bad. They pay, right?”

“Of course! And pretty well, usually.”

“Then that’s all that matters to me. Don’t worry, tío, I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay…if you’re sure.”

And that’s that.

Well, until I get there.

After parking the car and securely grasping the boxes of pizza, I walk towards where the GPS is leading me. When the lady AI voice finally quips, “You have reached your destination!” I look up and see that the destination is—indeed—an alleyway. Smack dab between two tall, old apartment buildings that probably still have bits of asbestos in their walls. 

A really dark and ominous looking alleyway. The kind where there doesn’t seem to be an end. The sort of dark alley that can swallow you up if you walk too close. The sort of place where only bad things can happen to other people.

A shudder does go through me as I look into it, my eyes wide and blood cold. Every single nerve that’s making my hair standing on the back of my neck is telling me to leave. Go home. Study for that science test happening on Friday. Danger lives here. Things will change. 

…

But also, I mean! This is New York. These kinds of alleys are a dime a dozen all over this city, let alone the five boroughs. Not all of them are death traps…just. Well, most of them.

So, with that being said, I swallow my fear and step further into the alley. 

Quickly after, just as my feet land right in front of a manhole, I find the button on the wall. It rests on the brick, probably screwed in, very deep. There’s a ring of blue light around the button. And above that, is a camera.

Hang on. This is one of those Ring Doorbells, I realize, my eyes narrowing. But where’s the door…?

Swallowing again, I take another look around. But no matter where I look, there is no door. Just the solid brick of apartment buildings around the alley, the concrete in the floor…and that one manhole. A manhole like any other in this city. I don’t know why I keep focusing on it. But something about this is so…unnerving.

“What the fuck…?”

Another shudder. My eyes fall to the doorbell again, my gaze darting to the camera above the button.

What the fuck.

Taking in a shuddering breath, I lift my hand and curl my index finger outward to point towards the doorbell. I bridge the gap and press against it.

A tune rings out, very much like the ring tone of a cell phone.

One beat, and then two. And then, a voice.

“…Hello?”

“P-pizza delivery!” I manage to say through a forced smile for the camera while holding the boxes of pizza. A jolt had gone through me when I heard his voice. He sounds…younger than I expected. Like any other teenage boy.

“From Gino’s?”

“Yup!” I chirp. “With extra yupperoni!”

…

“EXTRA YUPPERONI”? Did that actually leave my mouth? Ugh. Can’t even believe I’m allowed out in public.

With a cringe, I look back at the camera. The silence from the other end continues—until something happens.

He laughs.

Not like a mean laugh, like Antonia Stockman did with her cronies when I tried to be friendly with them on my first day. Not a cruel laugh, like that dickhead who bullies Sakina and says all this shit about her faith or her home country. Not the kind of laugh that makes you shrink into yourself, makes the anxiety spike, makes you wonder, “God, why did I even try…?”

It’s a laugh of surprise. One that starts from the belly and steals the breath, makes joy spill over. 

When I hear that, it’s like a little jolt to my chest. But a good one, this time. My smile begins to soften, become genuine; and it grows.

“Oh my god, that…that was awful. Terrible. Who allowed you out in public?”

I shrug, still smiling. “My mother dearest.”

“And I bet she’ll regret that decision for the rest of her life.”

I let out a chuckle before I remember what’s in my arms. “Oh, right! Uh, so about the pizza…?”

“Yeah, just leave it right at your feet.”

What. My eyes glance downward, meeting the rim of the manhole; and then they dart right back into the camera, narrowing.

“Right…at my feet,” I repeat.

“Uh-huh.”

“In front of the manhole?”

“Yupperoni,” he echoes, with humor.

I pause to press my lips together, trying to find the words. How can I say this without being an asshole…? 

Ah, fuck it.

“That doesn’t sound…sanitary, my dude.”

“Wow, you are new. Didn’t Daniel tell you anything before you left?”

“Daniel? Oh!” I suddenly remember the previous delivery boy, Gino’s youngest nephew. “Yeah, he packed up about a week ago and moved up to Binghamton. He’s going to school there.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Good for him, he seemed cool.” He pauses to sigh, so soft I nearly don’t hear it. “Must be nice…”

My head tilts while I stare into the camera. I kind of want to ask what he means, but…I dunno, that feels a bit too personal. 

Plus, as nice as talking to him is, I have a job to do.

Instead, I make a show of clearing my throat, eyes darting to the boxes of pizza. “So, uh. Gonna set this pizza down now…”

“Hmm…? Oh, yeah, go ahead.”

And, despite my reservations, I do. As soon as I stand up, though, he speaks again.

“Okay, now turn around. Just continue facing the camera.”

I raise an eyebrow at the request, but I don’t protest as I spin lightly on my heel. Carlos did say these guys were private. And the customer is always right or whatever.

But still. Can’t seem to help wanting to start a conversation.

“You guys really value your privacy, huh?”

He hums, while typing something in the background. “You could say that.”

“Any particular reason…?” I ask, still curious.

A pause.

“Let’s just say that our Sen—father, our father,” he seems to choke out, like he’s not used to it, “is rather…paranoid about our safety. For good reason, of course! But…yeah.”

I hum, my curiosity growing. Interesting.

“Say no more, my guy. I know a thing or two about overprotective parents,” I reply, shoving my hands in my jacket pockets. Damn, it’s really chilly now. Fall really has made its big return to the Big Apple. “Back when my dad was around, I could barely bring anyone over without him giving them an interrogation. Heh, forget when I discovered social media and the internet! Both him and my mom freaked when they found out I had Snapchat.” 

He chuckles. “Your mom too, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. It wasn’t as bad back then, but ever since my dad left…”

My mouth shut tight. Why did I reveal that? Usually, I hate talking about my dad. Just brings up so much stuff I’m still not ready to deal with. Why am I so…comfortable talking to this dude?

I wait with a sickening anticipation. Pretty sure he’s about to make a quip about my dad making that infamous milk run and never coming back. I can usually take that—got a retort saved for it whenever it comes up—but my stomach still feels tight regardless.

“…I’m sorry.”

Somehow, my body locks up even more. My gaze into the ring camera turns sharp, focused. But he continues, regardless—and he’s genuine. Sweet. Warm. In a way I don’t always hear from boys my age. Or girls, even. Most of us, especially if we’re coming from public school, we keep our feelings and squishy bits close to our chest. Hide it behind memes and jokes, and sharp barbs. I’ve tried not to, but it just became easier the older I got. If you learn how to hide behind a wall, no one can hurt you.

“I-I hadn’t…That must be hard.”

“It’s fine,” I say, a bit too quickly—an obvious hint that this is a lie—but I don’t falter. With a shrug, I add, very cool and casual, “It is what it is, y’know?”

“…”

Oh, I hate that. Please, don’t pity me. Believe me, I have cried enough over my dad this past year, I don’t need anyone else doing it.

Gotta change the topic.

“Uh, so who is picking up this pizza, anyway?”

Fortunately for me, he seems to get the hint. His voice shifts into a casual tone—likely wanting to get away from the unpleasant topic—as he replies:

“One of my brothers. Actually, he should be arriving—now.”

That’s when I feel it. Right behind me.

The soft landing of feet on concrete is near inaudible, if you aren’t paying attention. Me, I make it my mission to keep my senses as sharp as possible—at least while walking alone at night—so it isn’t the sound of feet landing that gets me. (Though I find it off-putting that there’s such an intent in its silence.) It’s the presence. The feeling of something looking at you with a piercing gaze. The subtle sensation of something near breathing down my throat. That insane itch on the back of your neck, one that causes a shudder to go down your spine. This feeling of something huge looming over me. 

Now, I’m barely five feet so that really isn’t hard. But I’ve sensed tall guys behind me before. This guy? Even without looking, I can tell that he’s huge. Massive. 

I swallow hard, feeling my neck break out in a cold sweat. Without wanting to, my head starts to turn back—

“Don’t turn around.”

A jolt goes through my chest and I quickly get back in position, staring into the camera.

“Sorry! I just…” I swallow again, my eyes darting around—making sure not to look back—before landing on the camera again. “Hey, you aren’t like…serial killers or something, right?”

A pause. Then he snorts.

“No, no we’re not serial killers. We’re not exactly—normal. But we’re not serial killers.”

I force a smile. Do I have any other choice except to believe him?

“Just another group of weirdos living in New York, huh?”

He snorts again, quickly turning into a chuckle.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Despite still feeling some fear, curiosity prickles at the back of my neck as I stare into the camera. I can’t help wondering what that could mean.

“…Okay, you’re good, pizza girl! Money should be in the envelope.”

I immediately turn on my heel. In the place where the pizzas were sitting rests a white envelope. After picking it up, I quickly open it and count the cash. My eyes narrow at the amount I counted, and I count again. There’s just no way. Why would he…?

“Uh, you gave me a bit…too much, no?” I have to let him know. I love money as much as the next person, but it’d just be bad form to take something that wasn’t meant to be given. 

“Eh, I told him to give you a little extra. You look like you’ve been having a rough night.”

My mouth falls open at that, before spreading into a grin, my eyes falling on the amount that would be my tip. Maybe my luck is turning around, at least a little. I hope it’s a good sign, regardless.

“Thanks, man! You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” I tell him while pocketing the money for Gino’s in one part of my jacket and then my tip in another. Then I think. “What should I call you, by the way? Since this might become a regular thing or whatever.”

“...Donnie. You can call me Donnie. And you?”

And despite hearing my mother’s voice screaming in my head, I tell him.

“Cool. Nice to meet you!”

“Same here.” I lift a hand to wave, my smile broad. “See you around, Donnie!”

“Later, pizza girl.”

With all that said and done, I spin on my heel and start walking back to the alley. Back into the crowd of others in the city, strutting to their respective destinations. Turning around and taking a slow walk back to Gino’s car. I take a deep breath, feeling a strange sort of calm wash over me. I’m not sure how I can describe it. Maybe it’s the relief of a finished shift. Maybe it’s knowing that tomorrow is Thursday, and that Friday won’t be too far behind. Maybe it’s the security of having a nice amount of cash in my pocket.

Who knows?

What I do know is that, when I’m unlocking the car, I feel it again. That itch on the back of my neck. That feeling of being watched. 

At first, I look behind me. I see people walking by, but no one seems to be paying me any mind. 

And then I look up, my gaze falling to the top of a brick building, at the rim of a rooftop. My eyes narrow. I think I see something huge shifting in the shadows. A hint of eyes. But I’m not sure. It’s too far to tell.

I stare some more, feeling an odd weight in my stomach. Then, with much trepidation, I turn and continue unlocking the car door. I slide in and start the engine. I’m choosing to believe it’s nothing. Maybe this is all in my head. Maybe this is just another New York thing that I will never really understand. There are billions of people living in the five boroughs alone. A good percentage of the population is going to consist of the strange and unusual. That’s just how it is here.

In the end, that stuff doesn’t really matter to me. 

I have to drop off the payment and car to Gino, so he and Carlos can drive me home. Then I’ll deal with my mom—she’s likely home from her shift at the hospital and near drowning in wine, so she’ll need help getting into bed—and put my little brothers to bed. And then, in between finishing my homework and chatting with Sakina and Norman on Discord, I’ll put my tip earnings in the jar I keep under my bed.

And tomorrow will be another day of the same shit (more or less). Keep looking forward and mind your business, I tell myself while driving, even when something inside me still lingers and even starts to bloom.

[panickedpansexualprincess]

tmw you’re staring your meds down, the one that doesn’t seem to be helping, and also tastes so bad that it literally makes you feel like you’re going to be physically ill....... and I know I’m just being a child about it, but ugh, I don’t wanna. 😭😣

[showfallmediamaintenance]

Blech! Ugh, anyone here ever had to clean out old blood to get to the back part of a machine? That box was so damn messy! Why did that dude have to bleed everywhere? Got the gears all gunked, the box barely even opened to get them out. Ew... It's coagulating with the oil on my gloves, gross.

Anyone know how to get that stuff off? I have a lot of things I have to tend to and they only gave me the one pair.

[twstinginthewind]

🌊 for the Carder twins? I bet they have fun ocean memories...

🌊Symbol Stories🌊

"Whoa, is that a sand dollar?" The little girl ran up to her brother, a bucket in one hand and a shovel in the other. The boy turned to show off his prize. Clutched in his sandy fingers was a large, round, perfectly shaped sand dollar. "Cool!! All I've got is a buncha oyster shells, and I don't even know if they were here normally or if someone had a picanick on the beach."

"It's picnic, JoJo," the boy said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I said!" She put her hands on her hips, jutting our her chin. "I know how to say picanick!"

"No, you... UGH. Whatever." The boy put the sand dollar into his sister's bucket. "Anyway, it's all just shells and seaweed over here. There's no pirate treasure at ALL."

"Not even a double-loon?"

"JoJo, it's...." He shook his head. "Not even one. I think maybe Pops is pulling a fast one on us."

The girl's eyes got wide. "You mean he fibbed? Why would he do that??"

The two turned towards where they remembered their parents to be, under a big red-and-black umbrella further up the beach. The children looked virtually identical in their matching tee shirts and shorts, with only her long braids and his freckles differentiating them. They looked at each other.

"Hey, Pun. I bet he's smooching Momma again." The little girl made a face. "Ungy. They're already married, they don't gotta smooch all the time."

"I dunno. I think that's part of the contract when you get married. There has to be a certain amount of smooching or they take away your wedding paperwork."

"Sounds like too much work."

The boy rubbed his nose, which was starting to peel despite all the sunscreen that had been deposited on him by both parents. "Yeah. But I wanna have Pops crack open the sand dollar. He said there's birds inside them."

She looked dubiously down into her bucket. "How do they even fit??"

"Iunno."

"I think maybe Pops fibs more than we think."

"Maybe we should ask Momma instead. She's really smart."

The girl nodded. "Yeah! I am gonna be just as smart as her someday, and a good cook, and a powerful mage, and a rock star, and... hm, what else?"

"You don't wanna be a bride? You used to say you wanted to be a bride."

"Puuuuun. I was six. I didn't know any better. I'm so much wiser now that I'm seven. All that smooching, that's not for me."

"Okay. But I'm gonna be a mage too, and an inventor, and a spelldrive star, and maybe a groom. I think I can handle the kisses if I want to keep the wedding contract valid. I'd owe it to my person." The boy nodded solemnly, with all the gravitas a first-grader could muster.

"Blech. Better you than me."

"You'll be too busy for that if you wanna be a mage AND a rock star."

"Yeah! No gross kisses for me. But come on!" She held out her hand to her twin. "Let's go show them the sand dollar! I wanna see how they fit the birdies in there!!"

[ioannemos]

tfw you sneeze and it clears your throat like a cough

[hughjidiot]

Jelly Beans, A Sashannarcy Oneshot

So I’ve written a number of Sashannarcy oneshots that I’ve posted over on AO3 and figured it was about time I start sharing them here as well. So here’s the first oneshot, in which Sasha brings some special candy to spice up the girls’ weekly game night

---

“BeanBoozled?”

 Anne blinked in confusion as she beheld the colorful box Sasha was holding up. She and Sasha sat on the couch in the living room of the apartment they shared with Marcy, who at the moment was searching through the board game cabinet for a suitable game for their weekly game night.

 “Picked it up while I was out running errands today,” Sasha said. “Thought it could be a fun way to spice up game night.”

 “How are jelly beans gonna make game night more interesting?” Anne asked with a furrowed brow.

 Sasha grinned and gave the box a shake, the candy contents rattling within. “Ah, but these are no ordinary jelly beans. There are ten colors, but twenty possible flavors. Each color can be something really good, or really  really bad, and the only way to tell is to pop one in your mouth and hope for the best. Take a look.”

 Sasha passed the box to Anne. Her eyes widened as she beheld the flavors on the back. “Birthday cake or dirty dishwater? Coconut or spoiled milk? Peach or  barf!? Jeez, it’s like Russian Roulette with candy!”

 “Nah, at least with Russian Roulette the odds are five-to-one in your favor,” Marcy said as she walked over to the couch, a huge stack of boxes in her hands. “With those it’s more like a coin flip. Heads you get a delicious bean, tails you get one that’ll make you wanna die.”

 “Exactly,” Sasha said with a smirk and a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you say, girls? Wanna raise the stakes this week?”

 “Sounds potentially disgusting and humiliating,” Marcy said, setting the board games on the table and taking a seat on the couch next to Anne. She grinned. “I’m in.”

 “Me too,” Anne said, smiling and handing the box back to Sasha. “What did you have in mind?”

 Sasha  hmmm’ed  as she looked over the games Marcy was offering. “We need a simple game. Let’s see here...  Clue,  no…  Cards Against Humanity, Settlers of Catan, Boss Monster…  no, no, nope… Ah, perfect!  Would You Rather.”

 Sasha opened up the game in question, took out a stack of cards and began shuffling them as she continued speaking. “So here’s what I’m thinking: we each take turns drawing a card and asking an either/or question for the other two to answer. Anyone who picks the less popular option has to eat a random bean out of the box. Sound good?”

 Anne and Marcy nodded. Sasha set the deck of cards down and drew the top one. “Cool, I’ll start us off then. Anne, Marcy, would you rather… punch a pilgrim or eat an avocado?”

 Anne sputtered out a laugh. “What kind of question is  that?”

 “That’s just the game,” Marcy said with a shrug. “Some of the choices have logic to them, others are just completely random. I think I’d rather eat an avocado, they’re loaded with nutrients and can be used to make guacamole.”

 “Avocado it is,” Sasha said. “Anne?”

 Anne pursed her lips. “Well from what I remember from history class, the Pilgrims  were kind of dicks… But I think I’ll go with the avocado too.”

 “And those are your final answers?” Sasha asked her girlfriends. Anne and Marcy nodded. “Well congratulations! According to the card fifty-nine percent of people agree with you.”

 Marcy and Anne high-fived. Sasha discarded the card and Anne reached for the deck to draw her own card.

 “Okay Marcy, Sasha, would you rather… have no teeth or have no tongue?”

 “Oof, that’s a tough one,” Sasha said. “Either one of those would make eating a pain in the ass.”

 Marcy rubbed her chin. “I think I’d rather have no teeth. ‘Cause at least if you have a tongue you could still taste stuff.”

 “But how would you chew with no teeth so you don’t choke and die?” Sasha asked.

 “Well that’s what blenders are for. Plus no tongue means you can’t  talk either.”

 “Oh, that’s a good point. Yeah, I’ll go with no teeth too.”

 Anne nodded, discarding her card. “You and sixty-three percent of people. Congrats girls, no one gets to try the beans yet. You’re up Marbles.”

 Marcy drew a card. “Sash, Anne, would you rather… sing everything you say or dance all your movements?”

 “Sing everything,” Sasha said with a proud smirk. “After all,  I’m a heart-stomper~! Stompin’ on hearts~!”

 Anne and Marcy laughed. “Oh man I haven’t thought about our old garage band in  years,” Marcy said. “We should break out the instruments one of these days, for old time’s sake.”

 “Yeah but it’s been so long we probably suck,” Anne said. “Dancing was always more my thing, so that’s what I’m going with.”

 “Ooh, first time two of us have picked different options,” Marcy said. She reached down for the BeanBoozled box. “Those are your final answers?” The other two girls nodded. “And the jelly bean goes to… Anne!”

 “Aw, for real?” Anne asked as Sasha pumped a fist in the air. Marcy nodded and showed the text on the card: fifty-six percent of people would rather sing as opposed to forty-four who’d rather dance. “Damn it. Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here…”

 On the back of the box was a circle of the ten jelly beans with a built-in spinner. She gave the spinner a flick and watched it slow until it settled on brown. “Okay that’s… chocolate pudding or canned dog food? Oh boy.”

 Anne picked through the box of candies, pulling out a single brown bean. She held the candy up between her thumb and forefinger, gulping audibly. “Well. Here we go…”

 Marcy and Sasha watched with great interest as Anne plopped the candy in her mouth. She slowly chewed… and a smile graced her face.

 “Oh thank God, it’s chocolate pudding!” She said, swallowing.

 “Aw, well that’s no fun,” Sasha said with an exaggerated pout. “You were supposed to get a gross one so me and Marcy could laugh at your misfortune.”

 “Hey, the night’s still young,” Anne said. “Don’t forget  you could also end up with a gross bean, Sasha.”

 “Well not this time, ‘cause it’s my turn to ask the question.” Sasha drew the next card of the deck. “Would you rather… be dangled over the edge of the cliff or forced to speak in public?”

 “Dangled off a cliff,” Marcy said instantly.

 “Really, Mar-Mar?” Anne asked flatly.

 “You girls  know how I am about public speaking! Why do you think I did most of the work during our group projects back in school and left the actual presentations to you two?”

 “Yeah, but we’re talking about public speaking vs. being dangled off a cliff!”

 “It doesn’t say anywhere that you actually get dropped!”

 Anne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll still go with public speaking.”

 “You and seventy-eight percent of people,” Sasha said. “Sorry Marcy, but the price of not having to speak in public is a gross jelly bean.”

 “Totally worth it,” Marcy said defiantly. She picked up the box and flicked the spinner. “And I get… toasted marshmallow or stink bug.”

 She plucked a brown-and-white bean from the box and plopped it in her mouth. She slowly chewed, and her neutral expression slowly morphed into disgust.

 “Oh. Oh that doesn’t taste good,” she said. Her jaw moved again and she gagged, hand going to her mouth. “Oh that’s really not good!”

 Anne tried to cover her giggle with a closed fist. “I don’t think she got the toasted marshmallow,” she said to Sasha, who openly laughed and slapped her knee. Marcy hunched over, face contorting.

 “Ugh, it tastes like how stink bugs smell,” Marcy said with a grimace. “That  sucked .”

 “Could’ve avoided it if you just did a little public speaking,” Sasha said in a sing-song voice.

 “Bite me, Sash,” Marcy grumbled. “Let’s see how you like it when  you get one of those beans. Draw a card, Anna-Banana.”

 Anne nodded and did so. “Would you rather own a mini horse or own a regular horse?”

 “Ooh, I’d love a mini horse,” Sasha said with a smile. “They can actually be kept as house pets, right?”

 “Yeah, but they still require a lot of upkeep,” Marcy pointed out. “If you’re gonna have a horse, it might as well be a full-sized one you can actually ride. I’d rather have a regular horse.”

 “Well I’ve got good news Marcy, so would fifty-nine percent of people.” Anne said. Sasha crossed her arms with a  hmph as Marcy smirked. 

 “Go ahead, take a bean Sasha,” Marcy said, holding the box out and giving it a taunting rattle.

 “Fine, I will,” Sasha said haughtily. She accepted the box and spun the spinner. “And I got… buttered popcorn or rotten egg.”

 Sasha quickly fished a yellow-and-white spotted jelly bean out of the box and quickly popped it in her mouth, face full of determination. Seconds passed as she chewed, Anne and Marcy watching her expression closely.

 Finally, Sasha smirked.

 “Buttered popcorn it is!” She said triumphantly. “Once again Sasha Waybright comes out on top.”

 “Seriously?” Marcy plopped back on the couch, crossing her arms and letting out a frustrated exhale. “I can’t believe I’m the only person who didn’t get a good bean yet!”

 “Cheer up Marbles, I’m sure you’ll get a tasty bean at some point,” Anne said. “Now draw the next card, this is getting good!”

 ---

 “Green,” Marcy said. It was a few questions later and she’d picked another lower option, choosing to only have access to games online along with thirty-three percent of people, compared to sixty-seven percent who’d rather have access to only Youtube. The spinner had given her a light-green bean to sample. “That’s juicy pear or  booger?  Oh jeez…”

 She picked a green jelly bean from the box and popped it in her mouth, chewing tentatively. She retched, cheeks turning as green as the candy she just ate.

 “Oh God it’s booger,” she said with a retch, to Anne and Sasha’s shared amusement. “ Blech, plech!  Oh that’s foul!”

 “Okay, so you got two bad ones in a row,” Anne said between giggles. “I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time.”

 ---

 “More people would rather drink tea than coffee, are you for real?!” Marcy asked, incredulous.

 “Well coffee  is an acquired taste, and there’s like a million different varieties of tea,” Anne pointed out, having picked the tea option to the question Sasha had given.

 “Yeah but… coffee!”

 “We get it Marcy, you love your bean water,” Sasha said. “But you still picked the lesser option, so it’s jelly bean time.”

 Marcy gave the spinner a twirl and grimaced. “Strawberry banana smoothie or dead fish?! Oh this isn’t gonna be fun.”

 She dug through the box until she found a lightly-colored orange bean with red speckles. With a heavy sigh she tossed it in her mouth, and her face contorted in disgust almost instantly.

 “Dead -  ack, hack - fish!” She said between gags. Anne looked like she was caught between sympathy and amusement, while Sasha was openly laughing.

 “Man Marcy, those beans really hate you,” Sasha said, wiping a tear from her eye.

 ---

 “Oh goodie, I got another one wrong,” Marcy said with a too-wide smile. “Silly me for thinking more people would rather die by drowning in a tsunami than throw themselves in lava.” 

 She let out a short, desperate laugh as she grabbed the box of jelly beans. “You know what? That’s fine, it’s fine. So what if three of three beans have tasted like garbage? One of them is bound to be good sooner or later. I mean if you flip a coin enough times, it’s bound to come up heads at some point. That’s just the law of averages, yeah.”

 “Uh, I think that’s the gambler’s fallacy,” Sasha pointed out with a raised brow.

 “Shut up and let me have hope, Sasha.” Marcy spun the spinner and giggled again. “Oh good, it’s peach or barf. That’s fine, that’s totally fine. Nothing to worry about, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

 She plucked another jelly bean out of the box, this one a darker orange with red flecks. She kept giggling, one of her eyes twitching.

 “You sure you’re okay, Marcy?” Anne asked, concerned.

 “I’m just  peachy , Anne!” Marcy said, far too brightly. “Peachy like I’m sure this jelly bean will be!”

 She stuffed in her mouth, chewing quickly. The smile remained frozen on her face even as her eyes began to water.

 “Aaaand it’s barf because  why not?!”  Marcy doubled over, hacking and coughing. “Oh God it’s on the sides of my tongue!”

 Anne gave Marcy a comforting pat on the back. Sasha just shook her head with a chuckle.

 “Okay, maybe we should give BeanBoozled a rest before Marcy keels over,” she said. “It was funny at first, but now it’s just getting sad.”

 “No no, I’m fine,” Marcy insisted even as she kept gagging. “I can get a good bean at some point, I know I can!”

 Anne and Sasha exchanged uncertain glances as Marcy grabbed the next card, it being her turn to read the question. “Okay, would you -  blech - rather be a Jedi master or an elite Saiyan?”

 “Ooh, I’d rather be a Saiyan,” Anne said instantly. “I love Dragon Ball!”

 “Well I guess I’ll be a Jedi,” Sasha said with a shrug. “At least I’ve actually seen Star Wars. I’ve only seen like a handful of Dragon Ball episodes.”

 “Well sixty-eight percent of people agree with you, Sasha,” Marcy said. “Sorry Anne, looks like it’s your turn for a bean.”

 Anne nodded and spun the box’s spinner with a swift finger flick. Around and around it spun until it landed on blue. “That’s berry blue or toothpaste.”

 “Aw man, you got an easy one,” Marcy said with a pout as Anne picked a blue jelly bean out of the box. “Toothpaste doesn’t even taste that bad.”

 Anne looked to Marcy as she plopped the bean in her mouth. Marcy, who’d been unfortunate enough to get four terrible-tasting jelly beans in a row. She smiled as an idea formed in her brain.

 “Hey Mar-Mar,” Anne said, voice slightly muffled with her mouth full.

 Marcy looked up, and didn’t even have time to react before Anne pulled her in for a surprise kiss. Marcy’s face lit up as she felt Anne’s tongue push past her lips, too stunned by the audacity to offer any sort of resistance. Anne pulled away after a few seconds, and Marcy felt a familiar lump in her mouth.

 “Oh my God!” Sasha laughed, a splash of red on her own cheeks as she brought a closed fist to her mouth. “Did you really just…? You  didn’t! ”

 “Yeah, I totally did,” Anne said proudly, blushing herself. “Well Marcy? What’s the verdict?”

 Marcy’s face was burning as she slowly chewed, a pleasant taste spreading across her taste buds. “Berry…”

[finnwrld]

me: i quite like glazed doughnuts

robert sheehan: i don't trust glazed doughnuts

me: UGH BLECH, SO GROSS I HATE GLAZED DOUGHNUTS

[crispy-ghee]

noxanlux replied to your post “I caved. I'm finally gonna binge watch like... all the Predator movies...”

THIS, all of this, I love it when people word things better than I ever can. Except I have yet to watch Requiem because of a scene someone spoiled to me (I think it's the same you mentioned) and I know I'm not gonna have a good time watching it. I feel like I have to force myself eventually for completions sake but... ugh.

Honestly, I watched Requiem as a completionist thing, too, and I mean... I guess I’m glad I got that out of the way, but I’m also angry about it. 

And yeah, like... a lot of Requiem’s gore and stuff is just really dumb and unnecessary and feels like an edgelord teenager wrote it, so they go for the most vulnerable targets (film opens with a child getting facehugged and dying, for example, which i wasn’t grossed out by, I just was like ‘...okay, this is like a dead baby joke.’).

But aforementioned scene is literally the worst in terms of ‘attacking vulnerable folks’ bullshit, bc it’s a pregnant woman confined to a bed in a hospital without power. And what they do to her honestly feels like someone in production had a very specific fetish and it lingers. It fucking lingers on it. It’s the only time in that movie I was actually disgusted, and it was kinda the last straw for me in terms of actually getting me to *hate* this movie. I was already frustrated by just how badly made it was, that part just pushed it over the edge. 

So yeah, idk. Watch it if you wanna just to complete the movies, but I guess take that as a warning for what’s up in it. It feels like it was made in response to people who hated AvP for how people feel it strayed from the typical Predator approach, and they ended up swinging as far to the other side as they could’ve.  Just blech. 

[justjessame]

If Only Someone Looked At Me Like They Look At Guns 4

“Tess,” Murphy’s voice called, drawing me back to the living room and the two half-naked Irish men I was standing between.

“Yer alright, Tess?” Connor asked.

I blushed, hot and red to the roots of my wet hair. Jesus, these two. “I’m fine.” I gestured to their naked chests and cleared my dry throat. “I don’t need show and tell. Just tell.” They shared another of their looks and I snapped. “OUT LOUD!”

Both were chuckling now. Connor looked down at me. “‘Tis jist dat, we’re not sure where all da scars are.”

Murphy nodded, pulling my attention back to him with his corroboration. “Yeah, ‘ad dem fer so long, not sure without checkin’.”

“Checking for ticks.” I muttered to myself with a smirk. They both looked down at me curiously. “Sorry, something I heard a lot of back home from boys like the two of you.” I giggled at the sight of them looking at me like fish waiting to be hooked. “Nevermind. If you two are confused about the placement and number of your scars, take it to the guest room. I’ll wait here.” I pointed them down the hallway.

“Wha if we miss somethin’?” Connor asked, mischievously.

Murphy agreed, eyes twinkling. “Seen each other so much, al’ looks da same.”

“Saints?” I raised my eyebrows in disbelief these two had ever conned anyone into that belief. “More like demons.” I groaned. I had asked, after all. If I backed down, they’d know I was uncomfortable, and they’d be merciless in the teasing. I could just fucking tell. “Fine. STOP!” They had reached for their belts again when I agreed. “Topside first. Have to be fucking thorough.”

I ignored their grins. Fine, I thought, I could play this game. Damn demons. I turned to Murphy first. Looking into his eyes and forcing myself to smile. Teasing is it? Well enjoy this. I ran my hand down his right arm to take his hand in mine. I slid my fingers over his tattoos, stopping at the scars of red around his wrist. “One.” I counted, running my fingers up his arm like I was taking careful stock. The Celtic cross was intricate on his forearm. I kept my gaze on his skin, carefully turning his arm over for an inspection of the underside. Up to the right side of his neck, keeping my smirk to myself when his breath caught at the feeling of my fingertips on the sensitive skin. I turned his neck to the right to check the left side. Mother Mary’s silhouette stared down at me and for a moment I felt guilt. Shrugging, I continued on. My breath caught when I found a burned mark that was clearly masking another bullet wound. “Two.” I breathed. Tracing the rough skin for a moment before moving on, down the left arm, to the wrist where I saw the same reddening as the right wrist. “Three.” My inspection continued, rolling his arm so I could check the underside. Convinced the arms and neck were finished, I moved to his chest. Over his left chest was the name “Norman” in cursive, it made me curious, but I didn’t linger. Fingertips moving down as both upper chest sides were checked, I felt his abdominal muscles tighten as I skimmed down to where his jeans hung low on his hips. “Turn around?” I asked, feeling slightly breathless myself. He did as I asked, and I was confronted by the bottom half of Christ on the cross. I bet myself I knew where the top portion would be found. My hands roamed his defined back checking as carefully as I had the front. “So three, Murphy.” I answered, stepping back. I bit my lip when he turned and I noticed his eyes were darker, so very dark. “At least on the top half.”

“Is it my tern?” Connor asked, his voice husky. Clearly watching me paw his brother affected him.

I turned to him and nodded. “Have to make sure the tally is correct.” I stepped to him and began the same careful exploration. Starting on his left side, taking his dominant hand in mine and working up the same journey, only mirrored. I kept the exact same pressure on him that I had on Murphy, they were twins after all. Lightly checking over each arm, taking the same time to touch the sides of his neck. Having the same flash of guilt run through me when I encountered Mary on his left side of his neck. Feeling him gulp under the careful touch of his Adam’s apple, tilting his head to the left so I could check the right side. Down his right arm, to the hand, with a careful flip to make sure nothing was missed underneath. I pouted. “Connor, I’m not sure you have ANY scars on you.” I moved carefully to his back and smiled, having won my bet. There He was Christ's top half of the crucifiction. A thorough examination of Connor’s back confirmed my first theory. “You have no scars, Connor.” I came back around to stand between them. “That was a dirty trick.” I glared at them.

“Ye done already?” Connor teased.

Murphy piped in, having clearly regained their composure. “Tink we still ‘av bit o’ skin left unchecked.”

Damn them both, how had they just moved along. I was certain I’d affected them both at least a little. Fine then. Let’s keep fucking going. I gestured to their pants. “Then let’s get on with it.” I rolled my eyes, trying to look bored.

Dueling grins met me as their hands went to their belts. In unison they unbuckled them, flicking the buttons free, and the zippers sounded horribly loud as they lowered them. I shut my eyes for a blink and opened them as they shucked their pants on my floor. Thank God they were wearing boxers, I thought, feeling like I’d probably combust if they hadn’t been.

I cleared my throat and started with Connor this time. I realized I’d have to kneel in front of them to make it the same as with the top half and nearly died of shame. Too late to back out now, fuck. I kneeled in front of Connor and thought it best to NOT look up. I started at his left ankle. I hated feet and couldn’t care if one of their toes were missing, they had to remember something like that. Tracing my fingers up his ankle, up his calf, over his knee, I felt him twitch as I went slowly. Good, I thought, teach you not to fuck with me. Up his thigh, ignoring his boxers, and crouching to look at the back. My hands made the same trip down the back of his thigh, the back of his knee, and down his calf to his ankle. “I’m going to be truly pissed off if there isn’t a mark on you, Connor MacManus.” I growled, coming back around to his front. I heard him give a throaty chuckle, but ignored him. My hands wrapping around his right ankle and beginning the same trek. At the top of his right thigh I was FINALLY rewarded. A puckered rough scar like his brother’s clearly used fire of some soft to burn the wound. “One.” I said, gritting my teeth. I moved to the backside, and went back down to his ankle. Standing up to face him and I could feel the heat rolling off my face. “ONE. You couldn’t remember ONE fucking scar?!”

“‘Tis been eight years, easy ter forget.” He was grinning and I fought the urge to smack him.

Turning to Murphy, who was fast becoming my favorite twin, I lowered myself to my knees in front of him. I heard a little woosh of breath leave him and I could almost believe that they were having another one of their internal dialogues. I was terrified to even contemplate the conversation this time, so I left it. Starting with Murphy’s right ankle I moved along the same tortuous path. Nothing was found along the path I traveled and I was starting to rethink his place as my favorite twin. Around the back of his right leg, nothing again. I felt like pinching him. Instead I sighed and moved to the front of his left leg. “Murphy, I swear there had better be some kind of fucking mark on your legs or I’m going to give you one.” Up his ankle, over the knee, until I found SOMETHING on his thigh. “What kind of knot is this?” I asked, not looking up, but happy I found something.

Murphy’s voice sounded a bit strained as my fingers ran over the knot. “Shield,” he cleared his throat, “‘tis a shield knot.”

“Ah,” I answered, moving along the rest of his thigh, and going around the back. Return trip down to his ankle found nothing else. “So,” I said, rising as gracefully to my feet as I could. “That’s three for Murphy, and one for Connor.” They both wiggled their feet inside their socks. “Ugh, I could care less about your feet. I figure that if you’ve lost toes, you’d both remember that.” Gross. Feet. Blech.

I looked at the two of them and they were grinning like fools. “What?” I asked, staring at them in turn. I shrugged and fell back on the sofa, picking up my book. Acting like I wasn’t the least bit affected by two almost completely naked Irishmen standing in front of me.

“Yer lucky brudder,” Connor’s voice broke the silence.

“‘Ow’s dat?” Murphy asked, I could feel them staring at me.

Connor chuckled, kicking his jeans off his feet as Murphy did the same. “Thot she was gonna bite me, jus ter give me a scar.”

They came and dropped down on either side of me, while I steadfastly ignored them. Dumbasses. “Tank Bejasus I ‘av dat tattoo on me thigh.” Murphy said, from my right.

I shook my head, and reread the sentence I’d just attempted. By the third go, I was nearly ready to toss the book across the room. Damn it. They were just too fucking close. I could feel the heat from their bodies, and they had the nerve to sit here in their boxers like it was no big deal. Ugh.

“Wat are ye readin’ dere?” Connor asked, and I nearly screamed.

Instead, I cleared my throat and answered with the book title.

“Wha’s it ‘bout?” Murphy asked, clearly these two would be the death of me.

“If I told you it was about hiding the bodies of two Irish boys after they were maimed by a tiny brunette, would you leave me to it?” I asked, snarkily not taking my eyes off the same page. “Probably not, I think.” I looked up at the two of them smirking from either side of me. “It’s about Ted Bundy. And that’s the truth.” They looked appalled. Good.

“Wasn’t he a serial killer?” Connor asked, looking at me like he was a little shocked.

“Yep.” I answered, popping that p. “Handsome devil, too. Got away with it for so long because no one could believe someone so pretty could kill all those women.” I looked between them like I was coming to a conclusion. “Huh, you’re both pretty.”

They looked sick at the inferrance. “Told ya, we ain’t like dem.” Connor snapped. His eyes were slanted in a glare. Ut oh.

“Mass murderers, right?” I asked, testing to see how mad they’d get with me. “At least based on the definition.”

Murphy sighed, and then I heard him chuckle. “She’s tryin’ yer patience, brudder.” I didn’t turn from Connor, waiting to see if Murphy could make him see the truth. His glare held and I nearly felt fear, nearly. “Fuck’s sake, Connor, wus a joke.”

I watched as Connor’s face cleared, the glare lowered, and his smirk returned. “Called us pretty though.” I rolled my eyes.

“Dat she did.” Murphy answered, and I wondered if they could carry on multiple conversations at once. No fair tag teaming their teasing. Fuckers.

“I think I’m going to bed.” I stood, and realized at this vantage point they’d be staring at my ass. Oh well. “Have fun with the television, boys, but can you keep it down a bit. I have to open my store in the morning.” They nodded and watched me go. Please, for my sanity, I prayed, don’t let them follow me.

Sometime during the night I finally drifted off. They hadn’t made noise. In fact, it was oddly quiet in the apartment. My nerves, however, were stretched thin. Why were they so quiet, I wondered. Why didn’t I hear the television and one of the many action movies they clearly loved being dissected? Finally, my exhaustion must have taken over, because I was out until my alarm went off.

Groaning, I smacked it with my hand. Wishing I could throw the damn thing out the window. With it turned off, I looked around my room. I felt like crap. Not unlike the few times I’d drank way too much of way too many different types of drinks. Ugh, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all.

Rolling carefully out of bed, I stood, feeling like I’d rather throw myself out the window with my alarm clock than open the store. Making myself successful, and the promise of quiet of the store strove me to get dressed. Fixing my hair in a long braid over my right shoulder, I checked out my reflection in the standing full length mirror by my closet. Skinny jeans, another v-neck t-shirt, this time dark blue, and a pair of ballet flats completed my look. Oh and my glasses, of course. I cracked my neck and smiled at myself. Come on, you can face the two of them.

I walked out and realized they were gone. How they’d managed to relock my door was a mystery, but neither Connor nor Murphy was inside the apartment. I checked the guest room, clearly it had been slept in and the sheets and blanket weren’t perfectly made as it had been before. The guest bathroom was still steamy from at least one shower, but they’d found the hamper, so the towels weren’t tossed all over the floor. Neat, I thought. They were strangely neat. Huh. I wondered how they had managed the door, then remembered the fire escape outside the guest room’s window. Sure enough the window was closed, but not locked. Spider monkeys.

I grabbed a couple slices of toast with light butter and a little apple butter, and grabbed a jacket and my bag from the coat rack. I was out the door in minutes, and walking briskly to my store. Unlocking the door, and hearing the familiar bell tingle as I walked in the darkness made me sigh. Familiarity, routine, that was what I craved. Turning on the coffee and espresso makers, I started getting the store ready for the day.

I was gearing up for Marco’s arrival and had nearly convinced myself that the whole experience with Connor and Murphy was some long delusion. I’d imagined the entire encounter. They hadn’t come in yesterday for coffee. I hadn’t learned about their identities at Doc’s. They definitely hadn’t spent the night at my house after I, God was a blushing again, inspected their bodies with my hands for scars. If it weren’t for the tingle in my fingertip remembering the gulp I felt on Connor’s neck or the contraction of Murphy’s abdominal muscles, I would have convinced myself. Damn it.

Marco came and left, I barely even remembered giving him his double espresso. I’m sure I did, though, right? Fuck. I filled the display case with the fresh pastries, and reboxed the day old. I’d drop them at the soup kitchen during lunch. As soon as I heard the first light ring of the bell on the door, I knew it would be them.

“Welcome to As the Page Turns, can I help you?” I asked, sounding bored to my own ears. Turning I saw the two of them swagger in. “Coffee?” I asked, grabbing two cups. “Want the same as yesterday?” I didn’t wait for them to answer, just listlessly started making the two cups.

“Tess? Yer feeliln’ aright?” Connor’s voice asked, and I nodded. Tired as shit, I thought, but fine.

Murphy chimed in. “Yer sure? Cause ye soun’ a bit off.” Worried, they both sounded worried.

I turned to face them with two coffees, lids in place, paper wraps around them. “I’m fine.” I yawned. “Tired a bit.”

They’re brows were furrowed. Still concerned. “Did we keep yer up?” Murphy asked, taking his cup and taking a drink. He started to reach into his pocket for cash, but I waved him off.

“You paid too much yesterday.” I said, another yawn racking through me. “You didn’t keep me up, I just had trouble sleeping.”

“You’re too knackered to storekeep today.” Connor said, staring at me with so much concern it would warm my heart, if I could focus on it.

“Have to stay,” I answered, glaring at the implications. “My store, I’m the only employee. Finally made the damn thing a success. I’m not going to ruin it by taking a nap.”

Connor and Murphy exchanged one of their looks. “OUT LOUD!” I yawned with a bite. They glanced at me and shook their heads.

“We tink we know ‘ow yer can stay open.” Murphy said, over another of your yawns.

Connor nodded, not able to resist a sip of coffee. “‘Av a friend named Romeo. He could look after ye store and ya could rest.”

I looked at them with suspicion. “Romeo?” I giggled. “He gonna bring Juliet along?”

“Gone mad from lack o’ sleep.” Connor said, grinning at you.

Murphy nodded. “Call ‘im, brudder.” I watched as Connor picked up the store phone and dialed. I listened as they talked, but didn’t get the gist of it. Maybe they were right, maybe I was too tired to work.

“‘Tis set.” Connor told Murphy, and shot a look at me.

Murphy nodded. “Gud, let one of us take yer home.”

I shook my head. “Does Romeo know how to work my coffee and espresso machine? How about the register?” I asked, looking at each of them. They looked at me stymied. “I have to stay long enough to teach him.” I yawned again.

“Fuck, teach me.” Murphy said, looking as worried about me as Connor did. “Den I can wait while Connor take ya ‘ome.”

I sighed, and ran through the instructions with Murphy. He asked good questions, and I answered them as well as I could. I kind of wished I could hire him. Seemed detail oriented. Probably put me to shame. I giggled again, thinking of Murphy wearing my glasses. Jesus, maybe they were right, maybe I was delirious.

Murphy nodded us out the door. Connor was carrying my bag and had a hand on my back. “Shud jus carry ya back.” He muttered, seeing as my earlier energy was gone. I was shuffling along. Growing more weary as we walked. Did my apartment move while I was gone? I swear it wasn’t this far before. Finally taking initiative, he scooped me up into his arms. I gave a gasp, too tired to make noise. “Sorry,” he whispered against my head. “Be faster dis way.”

I nodded against the shoulder of his pea coat. The smell of cigarette smoke and another cleaner scent invade my nostrils. I sighed, and the next thing I remember is being laid on my bed. I wanted to thank him, but sleep pulled me under as he pulled the blankets up over me. I thought I felt a kiss on my hair, but I was probably dreaming.

[scrapyardboyfriends]

Jenny’s Belated Live Blogging - 2nd January 2020

- I love Liam so much. That whole first episode with the pamper party was amazing. I’m so glad he’s become a regular and they’ve opened up this quirky side to him. It’s great and so needed. I did not expect him to call Bernice and tell her everything. That kind of shocked me. I mean obviously they had to sever their ties eventually because she’s not coming back but I kind of expected Diane’s news or whatever to be that she wasn’t coming back and then their relationship would just kind of end then. I didn’t expect the kiss and then him telling her and their relationship just being over. But I guess it’s better that he was honest. Just kind of sucks for Bernice since she was finally trying to put one of her kids first. Of course she was dishonest with him, not telling him she probably wasn’t coming back so it’s all a mess anyway. Ah well, the ship was dead anyway with her exit and I do really like Leyla with Liam. And I kind of love that Leyla didn’t even try to hide it. 

- I know we’re getting upcoming plot about it, but it does make me sad for Jacob and Leanna though because I do like their budding little relationship and Jacob’s already had to deal with so much and they were finally getting back on track. 

- I liked the non Wendy related Harry stuff today. I like seeing everyone else reacting to him. And I like Liv’s excitement over him. And I like that they’re keeping up with Matty and Amy helping too. It’s nice. 

- And I’m glad that despite the fact that Aaron was already confronted with Harry today that he’s still struggling a bit. Hopefully that build up will be worthwhile and we will get a good scene of him holding him for the first time. I did love that he brought up Robert today with that little joke even if it was super sad that Robert wasn’t sitting right there to laugh and roll his eyes at him. But it felt a little like he was there. 

- Wendy can just fuck off. Just steal the baby already and then realize you’re a grieving disaster that needs to accept her son is a rapist and then leave forever. At least she didn’t actually give Vic that teddy bear of Lee’s. Ugh. Thanks Luke for stopping her from that one. Gross. Also I do not need to hear that Lee would have liked the name Harry. Blech. Can Moira run her over in a drunken haze or something? 

- Speaking of Moira, I didn’t hate Chas today. Maybe it’s just because her going on at Moira makes a change from her going on at Aaron or even Cain for that matter. And I miss her and Moira being friends. Not that this was friendly but it was closer. Haha. I have such a low bar. I did like Vanessa being involved in that story though. It’s like now that she doesn’t have Cain to revolve around, they actually need to occasionally remember that she does have friends. Not a bad consequence. 

- oh and the Nate’s mom thing...okay...I guess that’s getting back at both Cain and Nate. I suppose they needed to get her involved somehow. Didn’t expect it to be that. haha. 

- Kim and Al....? I don’t know how I feel about that one because I don’t feel like either of them are in that for the right reasons. I feel like he probably wants her money somehow to pay off his debts and she just wants a distraction. I want to see both of them have real human feelings even if they are being villains as well. 

- Did they give New!Ellis a red coat because the yellow one seemed wrong on anyone besides Asan (and Isaac)? Because now it just works even less. I know we have to get used to him and all but he just doesn’t really fit anymore now that he’s been gone a while and has a new face. Sigh. #DamnitAsan