#but god i am really struggling to find reasons to keep living

[adventuringblind]

Bucket List

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: soul shredding, crying so hard, etc.

Request: no but I felt like crying so here ya go. If you have a specific scenario you would like to cry too, please request it. I love off human tears

Summary: her body loved to contract problems. Charles is determined to stay by her side.

Warnings: soul shattering, talks of illness, not proofread because I can’t edit and cry at the same time… I am not that talented

Notes: idk why I did this to myself…

Masterlist

Some people are just naturally drawn to tragedy. Though, for most, it's unwilling. This is the case for Charles Leclerc.

He fell in love in an unexpected way. At the hospital. Falling into her on accident.

It was 2015, he was still a child, in his way out from visiting Jules. He was teary eyed and lost in thought.

Until he fell on top of her. The pills in her hand flying everywhere.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” He scrambled back to his feet and helped her up. The two trying to pick everything up.

“It’s okay, really, I wasn’t paying attention either.”

They got everything picked picked up, then they looked at each other. Really looked at each other.

She smiled. “No offense but, you look like shit and I feel like shit. Wanna make it up to me with lunch?”

They spent the rest of the day together. Charles learned their the same age. She wanted to travel. She’s dying.

It was terrible to learn. He didn’t know how to react.

“I’ve accepted it. I want to live before I die.”

His heart knew what he should do, but his mind didn’t want to let her in. Jules was already on the verge of leaving him. Could he do this again? If he was able to help her get closure, maybe he could find closure with Jules. It was a dumb idea. A terrible idea, really.

“Come with me. I travel a lot for racing. We can do whatever you have left in your bucket list.” He blurted before he could think about it more.

She smiled. “Sure.”

~

They became fast friends. She followed him to every race. Her parents were apprehensive at first, but they saw how much she wanted this and they weren’t going to deny her.

They tried to go as many places as possible with her, but work always caught up with them. The Leclerc’s became her second family.

She was able to help Charles through Jules eventual death. He cried for days. His races were getting increasingly difficult. The pain behind his eyes was evident.

She stayed with him. Comforted him. Made him keep going when he wanted to quit.

It took time, but Charles got there. He kept going. It was because of her.

~

Charles dragged her around the Paddock. She was know as his best friend. Pierre often teasing the two about it. The French constantly nagging Charles about when he was going to confess to her.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t want too. He had fallen in love with her view on life. How she wanted to enjoy every second. They were able to do that together.

He could tell though, her body was steadily getting weaker. Her lungs struggling to to breathe. Yet she didn’t waiver. Her smile was contagious.

He took her to see every monument. She tried every food. They took a ridiculous amount of pictures.

Then it happened again.

Charles didn’t understand why it was him. How he attracted so much death to the people around him.

His father was sick during his formula 2 career. It was difficult for him to get through, yet somehow he came back stronger. She’d helped him with Jules and again with his father. He couldn’t help thinking she was some sort of guardian angel. Sent specifically to him for this reason.

They both broke down when he won that race and dedicated it to his father. Joy and sorrow mixed into their sobs.

~

Then he kissed her.

When he signed his formula 1 contract, he thought he was dreaming. This notion led to him doing things he wouldn’t normally with the newfound confidence. Including kissing her.

She kissed back.

He’d helped her cross everything off her bucket list; Including falling in love. She’d known for awhile but didn’t want to push anything. They both knew what was coming. They knew her time was limited.

So they made the most of it. Charles took her out on dates whenever he could. They did things that weren’t even on her list. They watched every movie they could think of.

She smiled through it all. The doctors didn’t think she would live this long. The medication she was on was doing better then expected.

Charles didn’t want to waste any time though. Neither of them knew when her time would come. Everyday was a blessing.

When he signed with Ferrari, he knew he wanted to marry her. He would have never made it here without her.

He gave her everything. A proposal on the beach, a wedding that made her feel elated, a caring husband who was there on her hardest days.

She was around the paddock so much that everyone knew her. Everyone wanted to be around her. She was filled with life even though she knew she was knocking on deaths door.

~

It had been a cloudy day. Rain dripping down the window. She was drinking hot chocolate and reading a book. It was her favorite kind of atmosphere.

She’d been feeling terrible all day. Thankful that Charles had time off for the winter to help her around.

They had friends visiting. Pierre, Lando, and Max had come to stay for the week.

It was crazy to her that Charles was going into his fifth year in F1. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t think she’d get to see him through this far. She felt blessed for it.

She felt so exhausted. Yet she still smiled when Charles came over and kissed her head.

Everything was so bright. It felt warm and comforting. Like Charles embrace. She could feel him holding her.

She wiped a tear from him cheek.

“I love you. Don’t forget it.” Then she smiled. Somehow she managed to catch a glimpse of his smile.

Her gaze moved to behind him. She saw Jules and Charles father. They were greeting her.

She knew what was happening. She could stop it.

With the last of her strength, she kissed Charles. Then let herself be embraced by the warmth.

~

It had been a month. He’d been grieving his loss. Barely talking to anyone. He’d lost his smile.

The funeral was hard. The entire grid had shown up. To mourn her and support him.

It felt like so much time had passed and was frozen simultaneously. He was struggling to take care of himself.

He was angry with life for constantly taking away his loved ones. It wasn’t fair. He wanted more time with them. With her.

Arthur had been staying with him. When he couldn’t, Pierre would. They tried to get him to get out of the house. Nothing they said seemed to help him. They knew it was going to be slow.

Pierre had come into his dark and messy room. Taking a seat at the end of his bed. “I wanted to let you know that they finished the grave stone. We don’t have to go see it today though. Whenever you’re ready.” Then he left.

Charles was ready to go in ten minutes. He looked tired and broken, but he was up. He needed to see her. Something to provide him with closure.

Pierre drove them to the cemetery. Stopping to get her favorite flowers along the way. When he parked the car, he didn’t get out. “I think you should have a minute to talk to her.” Then he pulled out an envelope from his pocket. “She asked me to give this you when you were ready.”

Charles shakily took the envelope and made his way to where she now rest.

~

It didn’t take him long. He’d spent hours choosing exactly where he wanted her to eternally rest. Close to the river that flowed through the cemetery. Underneath the shade of a large tree.

The words written across her grave made him choke out more sobs.

Y/N Leclerc, loving wife, lover of life, may your smile still be contagious from above the clouds

He gently sets the flowers down on top of the stone. Then he just sits. He doesn’t care in the ground is cold and wet. It feels natural to sit with her,

He opens the letter Pierre handed to him. Scared to read her words. Her handwriting looked a littler rushed. She’d written poetic words of comfort. Love seeped off the page.

She’d made him a bucket list. Things to do after she was gone. And at the very bottom: find someone to smile with.

~

She looked on at him. Her hand grazing his shoulder. She was glad the letter made him smile despite the tears.

“He’s going to be okay.” Jukes smiled from behind her.

“I know, he’s strong.”

Herve places a hand in his other shoulder. “You taught him well.”

“I think we all did.” She chuckles.

“Thanks for taking care of him all these year when we couldn’t.”

~

Dear Charlie,

I know my time is running out. I can feel myself getting weaker by the day. I know it’s not fair to you that I have to leave so soon. Regardless, the time I’ve spent with you has been the most amazing thing life could have blessed me with.

Remember that life gives you rough patches so you can appreciate the smiles that much more. Remember that your friends and family love you just as mulch as I do.

Don’t mourn for me, because I’m not gone. You can find me in the memories, the laughs, the tears. I’m with you, always.

I’ve taken the liberty of creating you a new bucket list. You can complete this in your own time, don’t feel rushed to do so. I just want you to remember that there is still life for you to live.

Learn how to cook

Stargaze from the track

Visit every state in America

Win the WDC

Find someone who makes you smile

Love your favorite person,

Y/N

P.S.: I’ll make sure Jules hasn’t been causing trouble in the afterlife

[artists-ally]

Hi! I love your writing and I just wanted to ask if you could make a fic about Azriel and a chronically ill reader? I have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, and it can be really difficult sometimes. I’m currently in a flare-up and I would love to see what Azriel would be like if he had a partner with a chronic illness 🩵 please and thank you!

{The Fixer} Azriel x Reader

Hi my love!!! While I myself do not know what it's like to live with a chronic illness, my mom has chronic migraines and I was always the one taking care of her. I hope you enjoy and are taking as best care of yourself as you can through this flare-up my love <3 Title and story inspired by this song.

Word Count: 2,193

Warnings: struggles of chronic illness, headaches, vomiting, fluff

Tagging: @cyrygher @thelov3lybookworm @librafairy @blessthepizzaman @needylilgal022 @bubybubsters @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars

Summary: Azriel notices. Even when you try to hide it from him. There is nothing he hates more than seeing you in pain, and it's his mission to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~

Whether it was the dots spreading across my vision or the ache set deep in every bone in my body, I knew I was off. Short of the normal dizziness and weakness I had, I felt like shit.

I rolled over in bed to find Az gone, and I sighed. Getting to the bathroom was going to be tough. Half an hour went by before I could fully open my eyes and not see the world spinning before. 

The snow was blinding across Velaris, burning my eyes and making me jerk my neck too hard in the opposite direction. Much like my hips and ankles, the joints in my neck screamed for relief. Just a few steps away was the bathroom. If I could get there, to the cabinet above the sink I could get my-

My sweater pocket caught the post on the bed and I got yanked to the floor. Landing shoulders first, pins and needles raced up and down my left arm. Fingers numb. With more than a groan, I rolled off of it and found a new ache in… well, everywhere. 

It took a long time to roll on my hands and knees, but I did it, and now I was on the cold tile. It did wonders for the radiating heat in my freshly injured palms, but it chilled it to the marrow of my bones. 

As much as I wanted to, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand. The pounding of my head and the rolling of my stomach was enough to force me to sit against the wall opposite the toilet. 

I pulled my head back and tried to breathe. 

Those life changing blue pills that Madja gave me would be useless now. They could only prevent a flare-up if caught at the earliest signs. I’ve been able to catch the past few, but I wasn’t expecting this one. 

Azriel was right when he told me to take it easy during training yesterday. All I wanted to do was prove to him that I could keep up. I knew I couldn't, and so did he, but that wasn’t the point. He shouldn’t just assume I can’t because I’m sick. 

Yet here I am, paying for it on the bathroom floor. 

I could feel the circulatory pattern of my pulse. A never ending cycle of pain. Starting in my head, down my neck and in my teeth. To my shoulder, numbness down my arm and tingling in my finger. The surge of agony in my hip, through my leg and in my knee. Gods my ankle, what did I do to my ankle?

A quick check under my sock and I could see the culprit. A huge bruise accompanied by an abundance of swelling. I must’ve kicked the post in the night again. Or it could’ve been from sparring, or our sprint up the stairs.

I gave up trying to keep tabs on all my possible reasons and focused on the fact that I was all alone in the House of Wind. Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta were all away in Illyria for the day to train a group of new recruits. Nuala and Cerridwen were here, but I always feel weird asking them for help. 

I can make it to the evening. I’ll get up and I’ll take that pill, even if it will only decrease the length not the strength of this flare-up. Anything. I’ll do anything to get it over quicker so I’ll be back to normal. 

On the count of three, I’ll get up. I’ll push with the strength I’ve built up from training with Az. I’ll push myself up and grab the pill and go back to bed. 

One.

Two.

Three.

My arms do nothing but scream in pain, and my legs lose feeling. I go nowhere but back on my ass. I try again, after another count of three. Nothing. Holding my breath while doing it only makes the dizziness worse. And the nausea. 

I drag myself over to the toilet and empty whatever is left in my stomach. It’s not much, and it burns on the way up. Tears fill my eyes and mucus fills my nose and throat. I know when pain and headaches get so bad you vomit, the episode is going to be particularly brutal. 

My skin is damp and I start to shake. Water. I need water. 

I flush and manage to make it on the toilet. I turn on the sink with some blind movement and I’m greeted with the lovely sound of water. I can’t lift my left arm any more and I think it might be out of socket. I can’t tell. Doesn’t matter. I scoop some water into my mouth, but most of it makes it down my shirt instead. 

I let it run and run and run, letting the cool liquid calm my swimming head. 

At some point I laid my head down and didn’t pick it back up. I stayed in this awful state of micro sleep, sometimes drifting off, sometimes thinking I’m dreaming but I’m just letting my mind wander. The bright morning sun turned into the dull brightness of the afternoon. I think. 

My heart beat loudly in my ears. Then it would stop, and then it would start again. My pulse was taunting me. It must be. It sounded like Azriel’s wings which only made me miss him more. The memory of his scent blasted through me and the tears started. 

I want him so bad. I need him.

“Shhh, it’s okay, just breathe, Yn.”

My eyes snapped open, and through a blurry mess of tears, Azriel kneeled in front of me. “W-What are you doing here?”

“The second you woke up I could feel your pain,” his thumb slid across my cheek. “I turned around when I realized why. You need help.”

I shook my head, or tried to. It just sorta rolled back and forth. 

“Squeeze my fingers, Yn.” Azriel placed two of his digits in my palms and I squeezed as hard as I could. Not even the tips of his fingers turned red from the pressure. “Are you going to let me help you or are you going to be difficult?”

“I don't want to be difficult. I’m in so much pain.”

“I know, my shadow. I know.”

As gently as he could, he sat me up and carried me to the bed. He took off his armor somewhere along the way, the bony ridges of the scales not digging into me like they normally do. I was eternally grateful for the small detail he remembered. 

Even our mattress hurt just as much as the floor. 

“I need to take a look at you. Where are you hurting the most? Did you fall?”

I nodded deliriously, “My ankle’s a mess. And so is my shoulder. M’arms numb.”

As carefully as he could, he propped me against him and peaked around. I didn’t hear him make any gasps, but I could feel that pull on the bond that meant he didn’t like what he saw.

“How bad?”

“Bad enough for me to call Madja. She’s on her way. I told you to take it easy-”

“Don’t.”

Azriel completely disregarded whatever he was going to say next. “I’m sorry.”

“Just get me the pill, please,” I faulty gestured to the bathroom. He didn’t even move, but then a pill and a cup of water was pressed into my lips. Those shadows of his are so helpful. 

“I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I just don’t like seeing you in pain. It makes me… it makes me wild.”

“I appreciate it, I do Az, but you can’t protect me from everything. And I don’t want you to. There's a reason why I wanted to train with you in the first place.”

“I know, but there's no need to exert yourself to this just to prove a point. I know how tough you are, Yn. You are the strongest, most resilient soul I’ve ever met. But making yourself like this in spite of me is something I never want you doing.”

I smiled, cheeks heating up as I leaned against his chest. His body radiated heat like a roaring fire, and I soaked up every morsel of it. 

With enough pillows and heat packs, I was propped up against the headboard. Soon after, Madja and Nuala came in. I could smell the fresh bread and juice from across the room and my stomach growled. 

“It’s cheese bread with a nice tomato and herb soup. Azriel requested the sweet tea just for you.”

I smiled up at him, my eyes suddenly heavy with love and adoration for my Shadowsinger. 

I ate as Madja poked and prodded. Az held my hand and kissed the tears away when she had to reset my shoulder. By this point, my body was in so much pain that I couldn’t think of anything else. The healer was kind enough to give a sedative and an injection that did something. 

“She’ll be asleep soon,” Madja said across the room to Azriel. “When she wakes, send for me again and I will bring one that doesn’t make her drowsy. Do not let her out of that bed unless she is in your arms, Shadowsinger.”

“Thank you, Madja.” And the door shut. Once again, the bed dipped and he trailed a gentle hand up my legs. “Just go to sleep, my shadow.”

“I hope you know that shot will do nothing, Az.”

“I thought they were working?” He asked, puzzled. 

I shook my head, “I thought so too, but they’re not. There isn't anything you can do to ease the pain, Az. No amount of pills or injections or stimulation therapy will do the trick. I just have to wait it out.”

“So you rest until it passes,” Az climbed in beside me. “I will be here when you wake up.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” I hissed, frustrated tears spilling down my face. “I want to train and go to dinner and drink red wine and dance like the rest of you.”

I couldn't bear to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the sadness in his eyes. After a long silent moment, he took a deep breath. 

“It’s okay if you need rest. You’re not expected to work or thrive in the condition you’re in. I could tell last night you weren’t feeling good.”

That made me perk up. “How?”

“You get this hazy, far away look. That's how I know you’re in pain.” Azriel muttered, snuggling in close so I could latch on for warmth. “Let me take care of you. Don’t focus on anything other than healing and my warmth. I will be here when you wake up.”

I didn’t care to read into how much he read into me. My heart blazed with thoughts, all of him and those offhanded looks and questions he always asks. He is such an observer.

“I’m the spy for the Night Court, my shadow. Of course I’m observant. I notice everything about you. What makes you smile, what doesn’t. The foods and drinks that give you headaches and swelling. When your flare-ups are coming and when they’re finally withdrawing. I make it my mission to make sure you are as safe and comfortable as possible. I am sorry I wasn't there to help you this morning, love.”

“I felt fine last night, no need to say sorry.” I kissed his cheek, then he kissed my lips. “Thank you for turning around.”

“Cassian thought I had been shot with an arrow with how hard I dove down to the ground to turn around. I felt this rush of pain from you and I thought for a second it was my own. But don’t feel bad. I want to be here anyway. You’re much better than any of those awful camps.”

“I’m a lot better,” I smiled, nuzzling into his chest.

The glint in his voice was enough to make me swoon, “Yes, my shadow. Everything about you is better than those camps.”

-------

Through the rest of the day, Az laid with me, running hands through my hair, massaging my legs when they cramped up. He got me water, food and snacks. Kept the entertainment up when I was in too much pain to nap. All through the night, Azriel held me steady so I wouldn’t accidentally roll around. 

Madja came in the morning with more useless injections, Nuala with a stack of chocolate chip pancakes and fresh bacon. 

I made Az eat some because I didn’t see him steal a crumb earlier. 

Later, he took me into the bath where he scrubbed my scalp, massaging my temples. I tried to do the same for his back and wings, but he refused to let me move. Just sat me in his lap, chest pressed against my back and let us soak for hours. 

As we got out, he sat me on the bed while he gathered clothes for us. Per my request, he kept his shirt off and just through on a set of lounging sweats.

One foot at a time, he put me in the comfiest pair of pants I had. The fleece lined inside keeping out the cold. He put thick socks on my feet and found something to wrap around my top half so I didn't have to move my arm.

We laid back down, me tucked in his arms. I absently stroked the back of his scarred hand.

I was calm. The ache is still present, but ignorable with a few of his stories. I drifted to sleep, in the safest place in Prythian.

"Thank you, Az," I murmured, sleep evident now

He kissed me softly, "Anything for you, my shadow."

~~~~~~

[scrupulosity-comics]

your comics are lovely because so much of the discussion around certain ocd obsessions (on the internet and elsewhere) seem so fucking unnuanced, lol

Idk. Sorry if this is intrusive. But yeah I also struggle with scrupulosity+ harm ocd and I sometimes get really fed up with people insisting on simple answers (if you’re doubting it you’re probably a good person/ just live with the uncertainty) without recognizing that sometimes you *have* to have a method of at least estimating your impact on other people and if your brain is hell bent on confusing your capacity to notice actual impact with its bizarre overestimations it can make living on the world really hard, lol

I guess with time I’ve managed to find ways that make sense to me to simultaneously keep myself with some kind of moral framework while also not being too rigid and accepting partial uncertainty, but I feel like philosophy and talking with friends who *don’t* know the Correct Advice For People With OCD helped me a lot more than standard psychiatric advice, lol

Anyway. Thank you for sharing your experiences. Extremely relatable and funny

Also, imho, adding complexity to perspectives tends to be better to the world than subtracting it, lol

God yeah I do Not find most OCD support or advice helpful or relatable. I know several people who’ve had really good experiences with ERP therapy but my therapist and I found it nearly impossible to come up with socially and psychologically safe ways to start exposure response prevention. She had me write “I am committing micro-aggressions” on a card—I still joke about it.

Obviously I’m glad that some people are helped by the simplistic stuff. I just find it frustrating when people expect them to also help me reason with obsessions and compulsions that are inherently politicized or interpersonal. A lot of people are upset by racism but still do or believe or say racist things! People apply compassion and empathy towards societal evils all the time! I have acted on impulses I regret before!

[nightgoodomens]

So how about a one shot where Aziraphale realises he has hots for Crowley getting his hands dirty?

😈😈😈😈

Aziraphale decided that he really should have fallen a very long time ago.

He never out loud admitted that he was putting himself in danger to get Crowley to save him - or in other words - to see him. It would probably be seen as pathetic or blasphemous considering he was pretending to be a poor Angel in need of saving by a Demon. But Crowley always showed up and never judged him and Aziraphale wondered if he knew.

He probably did. Crowley was a cheeky bastard but for some reason never tried to tease him about this, so Aziraphale decided he went along with it because he liked saving him. Or he liked him.

Hey, it worked for every heroine in the book. That’s where he got the idea from in the first place. They were always saved by the handsome bad boy that was only soft for them. Aziraphale decided to test out the little fantasy - and it worked. He liked the feeling of being rescued, he always struggled to pretend that he doesn’t really need the help, because his face was probably beaming from happiness. It wasn’t just the rescuing, it was seeing the demon and knowing he might be able to spend a few hours in his company.

But those days were long over. Now he and that demon had their own cottage and there was nothing to be rescued from… apart from a neighbour who tried to stick her nose in their business and Crowley found it funny until she said a mean thing to Aziraphale and he snapped at her in a way that ensured she never bothered them again.

Aziraphale was content and happy. They really finally had their peace. And he had Crowley all for himself.

Things were so peaceful in fact that he forgot that Crowley was a tempting creature. Aziraphale was used to him, he knew his flirt, he knew the seduction. He was lucky to have all of this in his normal everyday life.

But what was infuriating was that Crowley didn’t know of all the ways he was seductive when he wasn’t trying.

Or perhaps Aziraphale really should have fallen because he had a goddamn dirty mind.

Six thousand years! This is how long he knew the demon for, but only when they got the cottage he found out that Crowley was very much into sorting things out himself. He worked on the Bentley. He fixed the boiler. He fixed their appliances. He was so good at figuring things out.

And Aziraphale should had been a good partner who appreciated having such a hands on partner. Instead he felt himself swallowing hard seeing him working without a T-shirt on, sweat and dirt smudged across the uncovered body, as he twisted his slim hips to get behind the old boiler which played up again.

Or… it might have been… Aziraphale who broke it.

Why was he finding it so hot?! It was Crowley! He was hot and sexy and Aziraphale could have him whenever he wanted since that demon was last to say no, cheeky grin on his face majority of the time. They had a lot of years to catch up on, that was their excuse.

Yet somehow that bloody snake was not catching up that Aziraphale was breaking things on purpose to see him twisting, half naked and dirty.

Not even when he convinced Bentley to suddenly start losing oil because good lord Crowley covered in black smudges.

“You know what?” Crowley spoke up, one hand on the boiler, hot, sweaty and dirty. “I think we need to call someone over. I am clearly doing something wrong if it keeps on breaking. We can’t live here like this, it gets so hot. I’m sweating! I’ve never sweat in my life!”

“What?” Aziraphale’s voice was way too high. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’re perfect.”

Crowley would have given him a surprised look normally, but he was too busy wondering what was wrong with the boiler.

Aziraphale wondered if his miracle was a bit too good this time. They were really getting too easy for him to do at this stage.

God, help me.

God was probably laughing her ass off at him.

“It’s not that hot.” Aziraphale waved his hand dismissively.

“Angel. We are melting.” Crowley looked at him surprised, finally.

His hair was stuck to his forehead.

God, forgive me, for I am going to sin so badly, Aziraphale breathed.

God was definitely laughing now.

“What’s up?” Crowley was suddenly right in front of his face. Aziraphale groaned. “You’re being really weird.”

Get the hint you bloody demon.

“I am not weird!” Aziraphale scoffed, trying to be offended but his hands were touching Crowley’s chest, so that didn’t work out.

“You’re going to get your hands dirty, Angel.” Crowley said, still not getting the hint.

“I don’t mind.”

Crowley looked confused for a moment, but he finally did get the hint -when Aziraphale’s hands reached his belt and pulled him closer.

“Angel.” Crowley’s face turned into that smug smirk that Aziraphale loved but would never admit it. “Are you trying to tell me you like me like this?”

“Only for the past three months, dear.” He unlocked his belt and threw it to the floor.

Crowley laughed delighted. “You’re the one who keeps on breaking everything.”

“Possibly.”

“Aziraphale.”

“Just take your pants off, Crowley.”

He wasn’t planning to worship God tonight.

[pixiemage]

I deal with ADHD on a daily basis, meaning I struggle with multiple (frustrating) things. There's one in particular that's been on my mind the most as of late: it's difficult for me to complete large tasks easily. For me, motivation, mental energy, and time are limited, and those rare moments where it all lines up so I can get shit done are often few and far between. This applies to both things I don't want to do, and things I do want to do. Even writing or cosplay construction or editing videos can become daunting tasks even though they're all fun and enjoyable hobbies of mine.

Recently, I've been trying to clean my room.

As anyone in my immediate family can tell you, this has been a big problem since I was young. My room starts clean, but then I put a few pairs of shoes by my bed, then don't have the energy to deal with the growing laundry pile, then can't find a place for the new mic stand I got for my birthday, then I start dumping jewelry on my bedside table at the end of the day when I'm tired, then - then - then. And then it builds to a disastrous tipping point and it has become this massive, incomprehensible task I have to tackle, and because my brain hates me, it's a frustrating and grueling process to even figure out where to begin.

But deadlines help (pressure helps) and I have found that working on it in the wee hours of the morning (from midnight to like 5am) is somehow a way to get my brain to focus on it. For some reason I work better then. Arguably, this isn't logical or useful every day because I need sleep and I have work, but I made MASSIVE progress two days ago by staying up way too late on a night when I finally found the drive to get shit done.

That's not really the point of this post though.

The point is that I've found that a majority of society (or maybe just the NT community in general) have a hard time seeing progress as worthwhile when completion is better.

"Did you finish your room?" "Not yet, but I dealt with that massive pile of crap on my couch! It's SO much better, and I can actually see the floor in front of my dresser now, and-" "That's not what I asked. Did you finish?" "Not yet." "The answer is no, then."

It doesn't matter how much I've done. It doesn't matter how proud I am of my partial progress. It doesn't matter that I fought tooth and nail to get to the point I'm at, because unfortunately, I haven't finished it all yet, so it's not good enough.

(And I know I have a deadline, and I know we have family coming over soon, and I know that being done is the goal, but the deadline isn't here yet. Give me time. I need time.)

I think we as a society need to award and praise ourselves more for the efforts we put in, whether we reached a finish line or not. I'm not saying we shouldn't strive for completion, because at the end of the day that's often the goal of any task. But we should also let ourselves be proud of how far we have come as long as we're doing our best. I don't see that often enough. I continuously struggle to reach that finish line, but hey, I came this far today! I didn't reach Toad so he could tell me my princess was in another castle (because god knows there's always another task), but I did hit that checkpoint, and since I've been struggling through this level for as long as I have, that's still worth celebrating in some small way. It's still worth all the coins I collected and the goons I defeated to get to this point.

Don't reprimand your kids because their hard work thus far doesn't quite live up to your standards. Applaud what they've done and then help them find the right next step so they're motivated to keep going.

It takes a lot of work to save a princess. The journey has a lot more monsters than just the dragon.

[stationintern]

soft hands and glowing eyes (T)

Draco/Harry Morning After, Temporary Amnesia, One incredibly hungry cat This is, really, very silly. I was initially going to have the narrator be an incredibly judgemental, omniscient, nature documentarian. But, the cat's perspective just came naturally. Enjoy this ridiculousness while I get my writing gears going again.

Oh god, you look horrible. Your lips are all cracked and sticking to your teeth, there’s all that crust around your eyes, and, Jesus, the hair. I shouldn’t even be in here. This is sad. 

I can’t believe you’re just now waking up at… two-thirty in the afternoon. That’s fine, Harry. I’ll just starve. It’s not like you’ve placed my food container in the back of the highest cupboard, so I am forced to wait as you hobble out of your room every morning. I wish I could have thanked your guest properly last night, but I was so sleepy and didn’t realize he’d left your bedroom door open until after he’d left.

He wasn’t one of your usuals. He was prettier, and pet my head before he went. The other ones never do that. Plus, he gave me the chance to do this–

Thwack.

“Mmmph.”

Wake up. You have things you need to take care of! Me, specifically. Please. Do I have to do it again? 

Thwack.

“Fuck, Fluffy.”

Good, you’re alive. I was beginning to worry.

“You’re not going to starve.”

I am, though. I really am going to starve if you don’t get up. Can’t you see how hollow and sunken I am? I must have lost ten pounds last night, and you don’t even care. At least your guest had the good manners to call me pretty and pet me. I should go find him, let him take care of me–

“Oh, but you’re so–” 

Okay, fine. You do have quite the knack for petting. I would never tell you this, in case your head gets even bigger. I already have to watch you struggle to pull your undershirts on over that melon.

“How did you get in here last night?”

You ask me so many questions, yet refuse to learn my language. Even if you could understand me, I would never incriminate your guest. I want him to come over again. He smelled like pumpkins. His hands were smooth.

“Wait–”

Looking around your room suspiciously should not be at the top of your priority list right now, boy! Me. I am the priority list. Oh, of course. Now you decide to organize. Actually, you’re making everything worse. I don’t know how you live like this, truly. I may not have to know, since I will no longer be living if you keep getting distracted–

“Yes, Fluffy, I hear you. Just–”

Is my food on top of your desk? On the bookshelf? Under the bed? I don’t think so. Kitchen. The kitchen is where we need to go. Onwards.

“Fuck, who the hell–”

It doesn’t look like you're holding my food container. It looks like you’re holding a shirt. I wish I could hold things. Then I could open that damned cupboard. The entire reason I keep you around is your ability to open that cupboard, and you’re still not doing it. I thought relationships were supposed to be 50-50? You fill my bowl. I grace you with my presence. It’s so simple, and yet you’re holding that shirt and staring at it. What has it been? Two hours? It feels like it.

“Hermione,” you mumble. You always do that right before you go to the telephone. I don’t like the look of this– oh, and there you go. To the telephone, not the cupboard. Cool. Fine.

“Just a minute, Fluffy.”

Just a minute. Then it’ll be another minute, and then another, and soon enough I’ll be belly-up in front of my fossilized food bowl. I hope you’re kind enough to hold a proper funeral for me when I’m gone–

“‘Mione, did you see me leave the reception last night?”

The wedding. God, you wouldn’t stop moaning about it, and I couldn’t even interject. It’s a shame I never got to meet Ginny. Anyone who can make you this miserable must be a hoot.

“Who was I with?”

Do you really not remember your guest? He was quite memorable to me, with his soft hands and pumpkin smell and shiny hair. His eyes glowed. How could you not remember the man with the glowing eyes?

“Oh, you’re joking.”

I’ve learned, after three years of listening in on your phone calls, that when you say “you’re joking,” usually, the person you’re talking to is not joking.

“No. No, no, no. There’s no way– No. Malfoy?”

Malfoy. Is this the man with the glowing eyes? Tell me, Harry, before my premature death, is this the man with the glowing eyes?

“Shit. Fuck. I never– God, and I have to pick up my broom at his shop…” 

You’ve placed your hand over your eyes. Never a good sign. 

“This is a disaster. Do you think he remembers?”

He probably remembers me. Unlike you-

“Should I just– I don’t know. I don’t know!”

Stop throwing your hands up in the air like that. You almost knocked over the fern. That was going to be my after-dinner activity, and it’s not as fun if you’ve already done it yourself.

“I’m gonna go over– Yeah, no. I’m gonna go over there right now.”

The hell you are. You look like shit, your breath smells worse than mine, and my food bowl is still empty. If we want your guest to come back, we have a lot of work to do before you leave this house.

“Terrified, but It’ll be fine… Yeah, I’ll let you know. Bye. Love you.”

Finally. After three long years– wait, why are you going back in your room? Wait! Wait! I’m coming, wait–

Oh, you arsehole. I’m going to reach my paw so far under this door– I’m gonna– You’re not even ready for the day I figure out how to use a doorknob. You think I’m annoying now? If I just– I’m so close. I’m gonna do it. Watch me. It’ll twist-

Fine, damnit. I’ll shift my schedule around and knock over the fern now. Ugh, but then you’ll have to pick it up. Okay, option two. I’ll lay down in front of my bowl and plot my revenge for later. Yes, I’ll do that. What are you even doing in there? 

I could jump up and grab that curtain again. I know you hate that screaming lady. I actually don’t mind her. She always tells me how cute I am in between insulting you–

Oh, welcome back to my domain. You… you actually look quite nice. How’d you get presentable so fast? I like what you’ve done with your hair. You should’ve worn the blue shirt, but black works, I guess. You look fine. At least if I starve, I won’t have to stare at your hideous morning form while I do it.

“I’m sorry, Fluffy. I know you’re hungry.”

Yes! I am! I do not forgive you. 

Open the cupboard, open the cupboard, open the–

Beautiful day. It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining, you’ve brushed your teeth, and you’re finally opening the cupboard. Maybe you’re not so bad. Yes. Open the container. Yes, yes, yes! 

Victory, at last. Crunch. I can feel my– crunch– strength returning already. God– crunch, crunch, crunch.

Alright boy, now that our business is done, go speak to our guest. Bring him over for dinner. I’d like to see his glowing eyes again.

“Bye, Fluffy. Wish me luck.”

Good luck, Harry. Good luck.

***

The man with the glowing eyes is here again. He’s in the kitchen. If he reaches behind the kettle, he’ll find that package of treats I’ve been trying to figure out how to open. Maybe he’ll do it for me. Oh! He’s reaching… and he’s reaching… and he’s found them! Oh, that beautiful man. You called him Draco.

Draco with the glowing eyes and the soft hands. I like him.

He’s given me three treats! You always give me a measly one. How is that meant to be a treat? Such a tease. Now he’s walking back to your room, and if I can slip around his legs just so–

“Could you close the door?”

You are such a dickhead, you know that?

“Why?”

Draco asks the important questions. Finally, someone who understands me. 

“Fluffy will get in.”

“Is that a problem?”

“She’s a menace. You’ll see.”

Oh shit. He’s picking me up. Yes, behind the ears. Perfect. Harry, he’s perfect.

“She’s so adorable, though. Look at her little face. Awe, you’re not a menace, are you?”

I refuse to answer that question.

“She is.”

“Come on. Can’t she sleep in here? Just one night?”

You’re rolling your eyes. This is no way to respond to the requests of our guest. 

“Fine. Fluffy, you’d better be good. No scratching Draco in the morning.”

I would never scratch this fine specimen of a man. How dare you even imply–

“She’ll be good.”

Finally, someone who can speak for me in this house. Yes, set me on the bed, Draco. Your couch is too flat. Did you know that, Harry? Now, I must situate. Oh, this is perfect. If I just set myself on top of both of your legs. Yes, that’s nice.

This is nice.

“I’m glad you came over tonight,” you say, but you’re not talking to me.

“I’m glad, too. I may have to come over more often. Who will defend Fluffy if I’m not here?”

“She defends herself.”

“Let me have my excuses, Potter.”

“Fine. Come over and defend Fluffy whenever you like.”

Yes, Draco. Do that.

If you liked this, feel free to give it some love over on ao3!

[cherryatombomb]

list of aus i think fit soapghost perfectly and want to read but am too lazy/busy/whatever to write

parent ghost x teacher soap. ghost leaves the military after his nephew ends up orphaned, and ends up falling in love with his teacher, who is very dramatic and very lovely and oh god hes so cute

another alternative is where they are BOTH parents. ghost who took in his nephew, and soap who ended up with a kid one way or another. their kids end up loving eachother, so they have to keep interacting - a bit of forced proximity where they end up falling for one another

tattoo artist soap x flower shop owner ghost. soap who works across the street and works every day to see this highly tattooed and gruff man work in the flower shop. he goes in at least once a week to buy flowers (and talk to simon, of course, it's just an excuse). simon who thinks soap is annoying to begin with but begins to fall in love with him, but also WHY is he buying so many flowers?? hello??

alternatively, tattoo artist soap x piercer ghost. no i will not be elaborating (ghost with piercings is so real to me)

au where the 141 has to disband for various reasons and each member goes their own way. they try to keep in contact but life ends up getting in the way. price brings in the 141 to reunite after so many years apart, and both simon and johnny have to cope with their feelings reigniting - are they ready to let each other go after so long? probably not!

physical therapist ghost x injured soap after las almas. price has insisted he sees a physical therapist for his arm. soap initially complains until he meets the man - and now he's head over heels. when his injury begins to heal, he has to find a way to work up the courage to ask simon out (and possibly fake still being injured in order to work that courage up, hehe)

firefighter ghost x an extremely unlucky soap. a soap whos a civilian that always ends up accidentally in danger - car crash? yep. house fire? yep. it's all worthwhile when he finds the firefighter extremely handsome, even underneath that facemask... maybe he brings cookies over to the fire station, a snack to show his gratitude, and things blossom from there

medic soap x soldier ghost. soap who's there to - physically - help simon heal through his injuries several times throughout his life, after roba, then after various missions, etc. both of them end up falling in love with one another after a long amount of time... a good mixture of fluff and angst

bartender ghost x military soap. ghost who works in a bar most frequented by the military bc of its close proximity to base, and soap, who should be an annoyance, but he really does enjoy his presence the more they get to know one another.

famous soap x bodyguard ghost. im sure this has been done but oh what a good trope. fans keep theorizing over the mysterious skull man whos always at soaps side, who soap keeps smiling all fondly over. ghost whos gruff abt this dramatic man to begin with but ends up falling head over heels in love with him.

nextdoor neighbour au where soap and ghost, you guessed it, live next to eachother. maybe ghost is agoraphobic, he struggles with leaving the house - maybe he's a writer, so he never really has to - and soap moves in, runs into him a few times, and is determined to get to know him. fluff - and some angst - ensues

chance first meeting au where soap has a dog who's normally very good, but for some reason today is insisting on running up to the cute jogger he normally sees run through the park. it's love at first sight when the jogger - ghost - crouches down and offers him a treat, because apparently he keeps a whole pocket of treats just in case he sees any animals who want them. they end up running into eachother near enough every day, and begin to fall for eachother.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 26

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Lloyd rarely surprises you anymore but that night, you admit, you are. He leaves you be. You just can't decide if it's because he actually listened or for some other Lloyd reason.

You hear Dottie and Harlan come home and try not to hear what comes after. You sleep as well as you can through the persistent ache in your hip bones. You hug the pillow between your legs, finding your comfort with a blanket under your belly. Adjusting to your body is the hardest part, you were never very comfortable in it to begin with.

You get up before nine. You never really slept in. Well, before you were working night shifts and going to sleep at this time. Those years really did a number on you.

You dress and hobble downstairs, yawning as the scent of cinnamon leads you into the kitchen. Dottie is there at the stove, chiming at your entry with "good morning" to rival any songbird.

"Hi," you go to the fridge, mourning your ritual of a hot coffee and opting instead for some mango orange juice. "How was your night?"

"Ah, ya know, Harlan's all tired out," she giggles, "but I should ask ya, dear, about yours."

"Mm, it was a night," you shrug as you pour yourself a glass, "what are you making? It smells so good."

"My famous cinnamon donuts," she announces proudly, "little Marion was the biggest fan, back when he wasn't so stingy on sugar."

"Ah," you take a sip of the tangy juice.

"I can't think the night was mighty successful," she mulls, "not with him leavin' so fast this mornin'."

You put the carton back and grab your glass. You lean against the count and take a large gulp.

"He left," you don't quite make it a question.

"Didn't he say goodbye?"

You keep your face vacant, "probably for the best."

"Work, he said," she offers, "off to make some money for the little one."

"Mm," you chew your lip and think. You peek over at her, "I… hope you don't think-- I worked, you know. More than twenty years and I busted my ass. I didn't… want to quit and not do anything."

"Ah don't you worry, sweetheart, I ain't judgin'. He just wants to take care of ya and the kiddo. I don't think nothin' bout it." She shakes her head and chuckles, "ask Marion, he'll tell ya I never worked a day in my life, not outside chasin' after him but let me tell ya a secret," she turns the dough in the oil, "I would get my money at night. Where we live, you make a killin' with that phone sex stuff. All them horny old men."

"Dot," you gasp.

"Oh, Harlan knew, he thought it was so funny, ya know? I'd tell him when one of the fellas he worked with would call," she cackles, "got a good laugh."

"Money is money," you say.

"Damn right, talkin' up them old pervs got my boy into Harvard," she smirks, "that's the thing about men. That one part of em is always the easiest to talk to."

"Uh huh," you step away and rest your hand on your stomach, "god, I can't stop peeing." You put your cup down hastily as your bladder squeezes.

"Ah, I don't miss that," she calls after you, "baby boy used to line dance on my bladder."

You close yourself into the bathroom and struggle to get your leggings down. You sit and sigh, letting the pressure drain and the news sink in. Maybe he took a few words to heart or maybe you're giving him too much credit. Either way, he's gone and you can breathe.

💎

"It's all comin' together," Dottie says as Harlan pushes the crip against the wall, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his head.

"Yes, looks good," you agree, "I like the bunnies. Good choice."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Dottie trills and goes over to the white box on the change table, "Harlan picked this one out. Hun, don't forget to hang it."

She opens the flaps and Harlan nears her. She lifts out the large orb, a fascimile moon, and turns to him. They're cute together, you won't ever have that.

He takes it and hangs it from the hook over the crib. He smiles up at it, "I always liked to watch the moon, ya know?"

"Lights up and everything," Dottie explains, "all different colours for the baby."

You stare at it. This baby if anything will be spoiled. You'll have to be the bad guy. The one who moderates. The one who says no when everyone else says yes.

Like everyone else you've ever known, this child will hate you.

You feel your chest caving in at the thought. You can never be what this baby needs. You've never been enough for anyone. A girl, too.

What a curse. To be a girl in this world. With a father like him and a mother like you.

"I… it's beautiful," you're not lying and the crack in your voice startles even you. But it's not the sentimentality that it seems, it's absolute and consuming terror. "I'm sorry, I need to lay down."

"You feel alright?" Harlan asks with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just… tired."

"Well, you take it easy, darling," he girds.

"You let us know if ya need anything, honeybun," Dottie says.

"Of course, uh," you swallow tightly, "thank you. Both."

"It's nothin'," Dottie insists.

"No, really, thank you for being so… kind."

"Well, honey, you're our daughter as much as Marion's our boy," she smiles, "don't you forget that now."

You leave them and go back to the bedroom. You climb into bed and cocoon yourself in the blankets. You hate it. You hate how hot, how sharp every emotion is.

All this baby stuff makes you wonder and worry. You don't imagine your parents were ever that excited for you. They never beamed over your crip or delighted in choose cute stuffies or the perfect pacifier.

You are unwanted. Unexpected and unloved.

You didn't of that shit. Not for years. So why now?

You can be better than that. You have to be. You can't live with the idea you might pass on all this insecurity.

You sniffle and dab your eyes before they can prick. You blow out between your lips and lay flat. Big mistake.

You grunt as you sit up. As much as you'd love to sleep it into oblivion, you're restless. You hate the fact that Lloyd's unannounced absence has you on edge. He'll be back and not knowing when is worse than having him around.

There's a gentle tapping on the door. You try to shake off your nerves and you clear your throat.

"Yes?"

"Uh, don't mean to bother none, but… we didn't get to that finale… that lil snake eyed boy got me curious," Harlan says from the other side.

You can't help but smile. You never would've guessed his interest in trashy reality TV.

"Come in," you reach for your phone.

He opens the door slowly, inching inside, "you sure, kid?"

"Kid? No one's called me that in ages," you chuckle, "yeah, I'm ready to see it all go up in flames."

He has a tablet in hand and comes around the other side of the bed, "may I?"

"Sit, sit," you pat the mattress.

He's got the episode queued up and you help prop it between you with a pillow. He sits back with arms crossed and you hit play, the recap rolling at once.

You're quiet as the narrator goes through the most dramatic scenes of the season. You glance at Harlan from the corner of your eye. You never had this, never had a dad who wanted to do anything with you. Nothing aside from holding a wrench as he ignored you.

"Why are you so nice?" You ask at last.

He shifts and looks at you, "why don't you think you deserve that?"

You scoff and shake your head, "you don't know me."

"I know you're too good for my son, and I'm gonna let him know that. Again. Maybe this time, he'll hear me," he reaches over, gently taking your hand, "I'm still young enough to kick his ass."

You grin and feel the tension seep from you. You relax and lean against his shoulder, turning to watch the screen. He squeezes your hand as he rests his head against yours.

It’s peace. For now.

[plenilune]

what a weird year it's been! this time last year I remember being so high on not wanting to die for the first time in years that I was ecstatic to greet 2023 and find out what I could do in it -- I don't feel that way this year, buffetted about by circumstance and my stupid human body and brain, but I don't feel defeated. I feel like I made a good first pass at a piece of work and now I'm going to take a hack at another draft. I made some good ground. not all the ground I was hoping to make, but a lot I wasn't expecting. I feel good about my ability to keep building a life and a self I can be more and more joyful to occupy.

I tried a lot of new things and some of them didn't work but most of them did. I said yes to a lot of weird shit. I had so many experiences this year. I'm glad I spent a night dancing and smoking on the fire escape outside a masonic lodge and being absolutely drenched in rain. I'm glad Corey and I went on a gorgeous queer group ride with a bunch of other queer cyclists through the streets of our favourite parts of northern Kentucky and then bicycled back home together. I'm glad I had a not-quite-one-night stand and bused home as the sun rose golden and alive and lovely. I'm glad I re-learned the importance of dancing at clubs until I can barely move. I'm glad I saw Oldboy in the cinema and was so adrenalised that I jumped up and down on the sidewalk and screamed waiting for my bus home. I started painting back patches and sewing things onto my clothing and making jewellery and collaging and cropping all my tshirts and sweaters.

I started writing again .god, I started writing again.

and I broke my phone, my glasses, and my computer and struggled financially and took a nightmarish disaster trip to Philadelphia for my grandmother's funeral and I lost access to meds for reasons that were completely my own fault and thus sunk into a mire of depression and fatigue for several months that could have been completely avoided. I struggled to connect to people and struggled to feed myself and been a goddamn wreck. I didn't really accomplish most of the things I thought I was going to, that I started with eagerness and energy at the beginning of the year.

but hell. I built some shit. now I can keep building on top of it. I feel like a completely different person sometimes now, with different possibilities. I fucked up and lost and careened into walls of bad luck over and over this year but I feel better for and about it than I have in a long time. okay, that's new muscles. okay okay okay. new page, new draft, we can go again.

anyway. this year I want to push forward more deliberately on some of the stuff I found out I could do this year -- obviously I am continuing to work on my goddamn space heist book, but also specifically pursue block printing, drag/burlesque, bass, and making zines in 2024 instead of just experimenting with them. bicycle more, cook more, invest in people more, Not Go Off My Meds At Any Point, play more video games, watch more films. (I watched over sixty this year! after barely watching films for so long I didn't know what my own taste was any more, and feeling the shame and confusion of having once been a kid who wanted to go to film school but didn't know what movies they liked any more.)

anyway. here's to all of you who have kept me alive and interested in the world this year. my beloved partner is making arriabbiata and playing jazz in the next room. I have to work first thing tomorrow but tonight I'm going to finish the first season of Better Call Saul and poke at my novel and the day after tomorrow I'm going to have tea and listen to music and sew patches onto my jacket and best flannel. I'm going to keep finding new things to be alive for. I'm going to create a self I want to live inside. I'm excited to know what things are going to happen to me in 2024. I'm excited to learn about new ways to feel joy.

goodnight, 2023. you were a mess and I loved you more often than I didn't.

[thecameronchronicles]

All The Right Curves

TW: Smut. Language. Angst about body image. 

SUMMARY: JJ appreciates your curves. 

WORD COUNT: 2200

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

okaaaaaaaay so i had an idea for JJ but there’s no fucking plot >:(

there is literally no obx related smut where the reader is a little bigger or even just curvy.

I was wondering (since you’re my favorite author) if you could pretty please write smut with JJ and a curvier girl? Like maybe they’re at a party and someone makes fun of her, JJ takes her home and shows her how much he loves her body, like he literally is in love with it. I’m a curvy girl myself and i really struggle with finding guys to even talk to

*I AM ABSOLUTELY HONORED THAT YOU REQUESTED THIS FROM ME. I TRULY HOPE I DO IT JUSTICE FOR YOU! I PROMISE YOU, ONE DAY YOU WILL FIND SOMEONE WHO SEES YOUR BEAUTY!

All The Right Curves

You focused on the remaining contents of your drink as everyone else seemed to focus on her. Sarah Cameron. Kook princess. Every guy’s apparent dream from Figure Eight to The Cut. At least her beauty and charisma had entranced everyone but him. The rebel from the wrong side of the tracks, the future tax cheat; JJ Maybank. His eyes had been fixated on you from the second you crossed over onto the sand of The Boneyard. But for reasons you found the origins of your insecurities. As you attempted to hide yourself within the wrap covering the majority of your physique, his eyes adored you for it. He was desperate for even one second of your exposed physique as he found you beautiful, more so because you were unaware how truly stunning you had been. 

“Whale watch!” Some Kook spoke with the intention of being heard, giving the hot-heated Maybank another reason to hate those with the silver spoons born within their mouths. Not that he needed another reason, but with the tears forming in your eyes, it was enough for him to move to his feet and into your direction. 

“I doubt any of them have their head that far out of their asses to notice anything more than everyone kissing ‘em…” He offered his hand. “Walk with me?” He offered as you were pulling a hand from beneath your nose while sniffling, immediately looking at the usual gaggle of friends in his shadow, as he followed your gaze. 

“Did someone put you up to this?” You questioned, well aware that JJ Maybank held a reputation that rivaled that to what he was offering to you now. 

“Is it so hard to believe I could find you beautiful?” You were taken back by his words. As he had hoped they would leave you fluttering with excitement, they only made you question him further as you were well aware of cruel jokes that had begun like this with you at the crux as the butt of them. Because of this, your eyes narrowed in skepticism, even if your voice remained soft in regards to the crush you’d always had for him. 

“I don’t want anything from you.” He explained, suddenly nervous, as he folded his hands into his pockets as he moved out of view. “But to make you smile-”

“Why?” He clenched his jaw. 

“Because a girl as beautiful as you deserves to-”

“What are you getting out of this?” He was now on his knees, taking a soft touch to your knee as to test what you would allow, sensing your apprehension, before withdrawing. 

“I get to make a pretty girl smile. If you’ll let me?” He asked while offering his hand. Realizing he was doing this from his own fruition, you agreed, keeping your heart guarded, as you followed him along the surf of the beach. 

“Are you kidding?! I LIVED for those things…We all used to do them for hours…although everyone made fun of me because I always came up with the same words…” JJ explained as you bonded over a mutual nostalgia for Mad Libs, a specific brand of soda kept vintage in the offering of its glass bottles, and the favorite time of day having been the final moments of daybreak when nobody’s social status mattered and the beauty was on display by God’s hand. Of course, smaller details such as favorite bands and foods were exchanged, with a healthy difference of opinion, that left you to learn of him as he was allowed the same of you. 

“I have to confess something.” Your heart stopped along with the engine of the car after he’d insisted on taking you home, all while you prepared yourself for the line you’d grown accustomed to the majority of your life. ‘This was a joke’, ‘I only see you as a friend’-something along those lines that you were actually going to silently commend him on for confessing before taking advantage of your feelings towards him. But this was different. From the second he began to speak, it wasn’t to hurt you. And you could read that behind those cool irises focusing away from you, finding you once again as he spoke in truth. 

But as you turned to face him as your eyes were brazen enough to need to know why he remained silent, you were taken aback by the sudden force of his lips pressed to yours. A passionate kiss, one you’d only ever dreamed of was now being directed to you. Gradual in fervor, those soft lips widened your own, a tongue teasing your bottom lip, before he retreated in feeling your hesitance. 

“I told you I didn’t want anything…but truthfully, I want to make you come.” His jaw clenched as you fought to laugh, “I want to make you feel good, I mean…I want to make every painful word they’ve ever said go away when I touch you…I want to make you think of me whenever anybody says anything or looks at you in any way that makes you question yourself-” His hand was suddenly more aggressive in your hair as your eyes fell away in disbelief to the words he spoke to you. 

“I want to make you understand how beautiful you are…So please…please tell me your parents aren’t home so I don’t have to make you be quiet…because I really,” His fingers tightened that much further, “REALLY want to hear you…” You nodded in agreement as he was quick to guide you from the car and into the house, your body used as a means to close the door. 

“Where’s your room?”

“First door on the left-” Before you could offer a full answer, you were pulled to the direction of your room, suddenly insecure of the state in which you’d left it. But as the door came open and you realized only an old sweatshirt remained on the floor and a laptop kept open from a recent college assignment having sense faded the screen to black, you found his eyes only to focus on you. 

“Please let me see you, princess…” He requested, that nickname soft, but his words heavy with lust. You swallowed hard, “I’ve been dying to all night…but not just tonight…the handful of times I’ve seen you at The Boneyard…Please…” He asked, his fingers brushing your hair away from your cheek and behind your ear as you slowly nodded. Offering him this, you slowly set the cover to the floor as his jaw clenched to the sight you were slowly allowing him. 

“Can I?”

“Please…” You spoke, losing your confidence, as his fingers felt like fire in the slight trace made in the assistance he made to make you bare for him. Although he had done so slowly, allowing you the chance to stop him whenever you were revealed more so for him, it seemed swift enough to make your heart race, before you were left in only your lingerie. But as your fingers made their way to cover you, he pulled them back at your sides. 

“So help me sweetheart if you deprive me of how beautiful your curves are, I’ll tie these hands to your fucking headboard and leave them there as we dent your wall together...” He was cautiously aggressive, if such a thing could exist, vulgar but soft in the execution of such a threat. 

“Lay down for me.” He offered, standing between our legs as you breathed heavily beneath him. He cocked his jaw, shaking his head, before gliding a touch to your knees, pulled to his hips, as he removed his shirt for you to view him. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…” He saw your eyes cast downward, your own disbelief leading your gaze astray, “And I’m going to prove what you do to me…” He explained, suddenly against your mouth again, leading every single uncertain word he spoke into validation as he lowered those lips to your jaw, down your neck, and beyond your chest, where he lingered for a moment. 

“Goddamn…” He grunted, taking time fondling the clothed breasts, teasing each nipple with a dip of his thumb within each side of the padding, before his lips continued on their path. 

“I don’t want to hurt you…” You explained as his eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t need your permission, sweetheart…And for that, I’m not going to take my time. You need to come quick so you understand what you do to me…and that I’m losing my patience-” You were pulled closer to him at the edge of the bed, an effortless glide made possible by the assistance of the sheets, as he pulled your panties to the side before leading a devoted tongue to your sex. 

“Oh my God, you’re so fucking sweet…UGH!” He growled before returning to your dripping lower lips. Your eyes rolled closed, screwing closed as one finger and then two made their way into a bend at your opening, beginning slowly and increasing in speed as he had you on the crest of pleasure before withdrawing his tongue from your clit. 

“I swear to God, making you moan could make me come…” He licked his lips, rising from your trembling thighs. 

“But the first time I make you will be on me, sweetheart…” He began to unbuckle his shorts, aligning himself towards you as you quickly sat up on your elbows. 

“You don’t want me to-”

“This is about you, baby…YOU feeling good…YOU feeling ME.” He was swift to fill you with his cock, making you wince to his width, being made aware of why he held such an ego. 

“Jesus!” He growled, fingers fisting into the sheets beneath you. 

“I want you from every angle. Every fucking one…but I want to be abel to hold you closer…” He explained, one hand eating into your hip as the other would be led to the bed beside your head for stability. It would only remain here for a minute, however, before he supplied the entirety of his own weight onto you, hiking up his knee to cause your own higher for a deeper penetration, and relying on you for that close proximity. 

“Don’t hold back, princess…I want to hear everything…I already feel it…” You moaned for him as he nodded into you, kissing your neck and fondling your breasts in approval. 

“JJ!”

“I know baby…I can feel you clenching me…I am going to make it last, though…” He slowed his paces, doing so in repetition until you were breathlessly pleading for him. Sweat and pleas existing in sporadic alteration as the moonlight came through as a means of luminescence to find his face contorting in pleasure as you struggled to simply breathe beneath him. 

“Before you come…you’re going to know what you do to me.” He led you to look at the pistoning of his cock moving in and out of you, “I’ve never been this fucking hard in my life…and it’s all for you baby…Because you’re beautiful…smart…funny…Fuck-I’m in love with your body…” He groaned, slowing his movements but somehow moving even deeper. 

“But I can’t take it anymore…so tell me you understand so I can make you come for me…Tell me you’re beautiful.”

“JJ-”

“Tell me or you can’t come, baby…Tell me, I know you’re close…”

“So close!” You explained as he nodded. “I’m-”

“You’re beautiful, baby. Just one time…say it for me, princess…please…”

“I’m beautiful-” You confessed. 

“One more-”

“I’m beautiful!”

“You know what else you are?” He asked, wincing between thrusts increasing in speed. “Mine. All fucking mine. Every beautiful curve. Every FUCKING INCH!” He grunted, pistoning behind every word, before he pulled you to that final edge. The rush of pleasure and ecstasy just beyond reach as he accelerated this by the presence of his thumb running circles over your clit. 

“FUCK!” He belted in finality, your breathless gasp speaking his name before you were made silent. But the second you were allowed the descent from that high, his lips were on you again. 

“That was one, baby.”

“One?” You questioned in winded uncertainty. 

“I’m greedy…And I said I wanted you in every position. Let me so how many I can get you in before you can’t take it anymore…” He brought you onto your stomach, kissing the back of your neck and onto its curve. 

“And then, there’s always tomorrow…”

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

[cfr749]

What’s your opinion on the Valentine’s Day storyline? specifically Tim being upset with Lucy and just how it was written in general?

Hi anon!

Thanks for the ask! I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you!

So I will admit my feelings have evolved a bit on this particular storyline especially in context of season 6 (which I am enjoying so far).

I'll start with my thoughts on the whole five-player-trade thing since those storylines were so intermingled (and apparently that whole thing is going to be the gift that keeps on giving 😂).

Side note: I still wish they would have just dealt with the repercussions of the whole TO/Rookie superior/subordinate thing directly instead of inventing all this sorcery when they could have just acknowledged the inherent misogyny and sexism they've already admitted exists.

We still could have had the cuteness of the group scene and all the plotting to find an opening for Tim without making Lucy out to be a manipulator.

But for whatever reason, they really didn't seem comfortable dealing with the power dynamic issues and repercussions head on, so now I guess we get to see Aaron try to date his therapist instead 😂😬

But at least it seems like they are trying to fix their framing this season by making it clear to the audience that Lucy is the one being wronged, so that's a good thing in my book even though it's hard to see her struggle.

So, after all that, you will be shocked to hear that I wasn't a huge fan of Lucy's choice to do the five-player-trade thing 😂.

I do understand why Tim was upset with her. I think doing what she did behind his back was a problem. Don't get me wrong, though -- they both failed majorly at adult communication 101 here.

Tim should have talked to her before he made the decision to switch positions. Had they discussed it, I don't think Lucy would have felt the same level of responsibility and pressure that she did to make sure Tim wouldn't be stuck in a role he hated. Mostly because she never would have agreed to him taking a desk position and they would have had to work together to come up with another solution. From there, the story could have unfolded very differently.

Tim made a choice behind her back that impacted their relationship, but only his career. Lucy went behind Tim's back and made a choice that ultimately impacted both of their careers.

But, at the end of the day, Tim 100% came out of the situation a winner. And Lucy is continuing to pay the price. As happy as I am that Tim finally acknowledged Primm's role in the outcome of Lucy's detective exam, I am actually pretty disappointed that we haven't seen any actual acknowledgement from him that Lucy is in the position she's in now specifically because she didn't want him to be unhappy.

Lucy's choices were her own, and now she's gotta live with that, but there's no question that she did what she did out of love. And it sucks that we haven't seen any direct appreciation for what she was willing to risk for him, even if he wasn't a fan of the execution.

I had to go back and watch some clips from this episode in order to respond to this, and I have to say it actually gutted me to see how genuinely happy and proud and excited Lucy was for Tim when he got the promotion. Especially juxtaposed against Lucy learning that as much as Tim loves her and wants to support her, he really isn't able to fully get behind her on her dream, which is, of course, understandable, given his past, but still just really heartbreaking for Lucy.

When I initially watched the five-player-trade episode, I was just waiting for Tim to pop up at Smitty's trailer in his own hazmat suit to help Lucy. I thought he would be a little irritated about Lucy going behind his back, but ultimately I though we'd see him acknowledging and appreciating just how much she was willing to do to make sure he was happy (forget torpedoing her career -- she cleaned Smitty's trailer for god's sake!).

Moving into the V-day episode...

First off, boo on Tim for bailing on V-day breakfast (even is she was up late catching up with Noah 😂).

Even though I understood why Tim was upset, I don't love avoidant Tim (looking at you, beginning of 6x02 Tim 😂). Lucy of course deals with it because she does genuinely love him and understands how he operates, but this is something I do think he needs to work on and I'd like to see change over the course of the relationship. As much as I loved their Rookie-T.O. dynamic, there are definitely aspects of it that don't belong in a healthy relationship.

Back to the point, I do think what Lucy did was misguided and short-sighted (and unbelievably sweet). I do think she should have actually apologized (sorry not sorry doesn't count 😂).

But, while we're at it, Tim can apologize for making a major life decision without talking to her first also... 😂

The scene at the end was cute; I like it better now than I did when it originally aired. Some actual heat over "fuel for later" would have been great but it is, of course, The Rookie. And I do wish they would have made the gift somehow meaningful for them to give the scene a little bit more weight (think when Jackson gave Lucy the St. Michael pendant), but hey, at least we got the trophy this season 🥰.

Ultimately, it didn't make me feel a whole lot, and it's not a scene that makes the list when I think of my favorite moments for them.

And watching it back did highlight (IMO) the contrast between what we've seen so far in season 6 vs. the bulk of what we saw in season 5. And while angst is part of it, for me, I think it's more about giving us a story that (at least occasionally) goes beyond the surface level (Tim was mildly irritated! Lucy was sassy and silly!) and explores the character's emotions in a way that makes them more human and relatable.

What were your thoughts on this storyline??

[jinxxedmisery]

I did a quick little sketch (by quick, I mean it took me like 2 hours lol) I still struggle with feet and shoes...

I just saw a pose on pinterest and thought omg, what if Astarion and my tav... but he's biting their thigh 🤭

Ofc, I had to name it.. thirst... and I added the "Happy" symbol to kind of cover a sketch I did on the same page... You know... it wasn't originally supposed to be just one piece, I was practicing poses and I liked this one way too much to just leave it or risk messing up when I redrew it.

This is entirely self indulgent.. and intended to be Spawn Astarion because he's so babygirl 🥰😘😍

🤣 also I don't think I posted but I got through the Cazador fight not too long ago.. and

Spoilers and dumb ramble ahead:

For most of my day, I sat there wondering how the fuck I would beat that bastard... he was one shotting Shadowheart with his fucking lightning bolt, then sending his gas minions after the survivors. Astarion being in the ritual made it 10× more difficult.. so... I cheated... and fuck... It should have been obvious...

I LITERALLY FORGOT FOR THE ENTIRE FUCKING DAY THAT VAMPIRES ARE WEAK TO SUNLIGHT.. I blame Astarion and his parasite as well as Alucard for that one honestly.. the day walker thing kind of made me forget that omfg immunity to daylight is an exception, not the rule..

So I felt stupid.. once I got that, it was so much easier.. oh and almost constantly had Astarion in stealth kill mode until Cazadick was gone.

Also side note.. the VA for Cazador is perfect.. Like they really sells the "I'm a pathetic little worm, and your worst nightmare, fear me while I bitch and cry" LOL and again that's a compliment.. Larian really succeeded in making an evil character extremely grating and hatable which again, a good thing, not a bad thing.

The heartbreak I felt though afterwards when Astarion screams and cries.. God.. the second I got to this scene, I KNEW I couldn't let him ascend, doing so would be so cruel.. and yes.. this is ascended Astarion slander, I don't like my men too domineering.. maybe a little bit, but not enough to like kill innocent children and eat their hands or some shit lmfao (Doing a durge run too.. where I'm going to ascend Astarion and be a horrible bastard that eats babies) and I don't like that he loses the genuine feelings he has for tav/durge and becomes what he sought to destroy, an abuser.

Now.. the graveyard scene... I had tears in my eyes.. Honestly, the reason I love Astarion so much is because he is quite relatable. I will not go into detail, but I was.. SAed and abused as a kid. And honestly.. Seeing the bit where he scratched out his death date, made me feel hope.. for myself... For my own healing.. it truly meant so much seeing another survivor of abuse begin anew, find themselves again... even though I have done that already myself for the most part, I've found purpose, passions, love, heartbreak, etc and I've found some level of beauty in the life. I related quite a lot to the line about sex feeling tainted.. I am at a point where it no longer feels as terrible, I feel genuine enjoyment in it... (Can't do casual sex though.. That would trigger me into a ptsd attack) And I think part of that was letting myself go at my own pace, making sure my partners knew, and having control and the ability to consent and revoke consent at any point. Emotional attachment helped a great deal too.

I've rambled on enough.. but... Let me end this off by saying, If you went through unspeakable horrors at the hands of those who you thought were supposed to protect you, You are not alone, Even if you do not see it now, there is light at the end of the tunnel, keep on living, keep trying to find joy in little things. It does get better, what was done to you was horrible and you did not deserve it. I promise, you will see better days. You will be happy again, even if you feel like the pain will never end, there is always moments of calm.... live for those... live for your pets, live for your friends, the people around you, live for that cute thing you just ordered, live for that movie or TV series you're excited about watching... even the next patch for bg3.. or more Astarion content if that's your reason right now... and take it one day at a time. You will be okay.

If you need to vent out some shit, I'll listen, I may not know what to say or be able to offer comfort, but I will always lend an ear, even to a total stranger if they need it.

That's all from me, goodbye, until my next post.. whenever that will be ❤🖤❤🖤

[copperbadge]

vascarl

Very interested in hearing more about enforced idleness.

All right, let’s talk about rest, stress, guilt, kink, and religion! :D

We’re going to need to start with submission, so bear with me. 

A little context: I am not truly in the kink community but I spent several years as a submissive friend’s chaperone/muscle, and I have a lot of friends who are specifically into D/s. Because it’s not really my thing but I was immersed in it, I spent time puzzling out what made a person want to dominate or submit, and particularly what was attractive about submission, which on the surface didn’t seem super pleasant to me at first. 

Before we go any further, let’s acknowledge that there are a wide range of reasons people get into kink in general and submission in particular, so I am not speaking about all submissives here. I am speaking only about one common reason people are attracted to submission. 

A common reason for submission is the relief that can be gained from giving up control. In this form, the submissive consciously cedes control to someone else, which relieves them of a stressful mental load: they have no decisions to make, they have no responsibilities except very specific and clear ones they are given, and generally if they do have tasks they are very clear-cut and achievable, rewarded with praise. (I elaborate on this somewhat in some of my fic, particularly If I Don’t Wake Up Dead and later parts of Exquisite, although it also crops up significantly if non-sexually in Fete For A King).

Often, submissives who benefit from this situation come from backgrounds of power, where they are tasked with a lot of decision making or responsibility; sometimes they’re simply anxious people who struggle to stop worrying about things on their own. Being able to give that up for a period of time can be attractive, but may also require a significant amount of work to get into that headspace, which is where a Dom comes in. There needs to be another person one trusts to take that burden and keep it and give it back when appropriate. 

However -- particularly if you aren’t interested in sexual or even physical activity linked to submission, and if you’re willing to put in a bit of work, it is possible to relinquish not only responsibility, but the stress and guilt associated with relinquishing responsibility, for a period of time, on one’s own. When I offhandedly mentioned “enforced idleness” (which is not a great term for it), that’s what I was talking about. 

Sometimes at this point in my little TEDtalk people are like “I don’t really follow” so here’s a quickie sidebar: If you have ever heard the slogans “One day at a time” or “Let go and let God” or even “Jesus take the wheel”, that’s this form of submission. There are a lot of religious groups (mainly Christian in my experience but by no means confined to Christianity) which offer submission to a deity as a meaningful form of relief from the stress of life. I mention this because I find many people who don’t understand submission in a kink sense understand it fine in a religion sense. The relief you feel when you place something you’re worried about at the feet of some other power than your own, however temporarily, knowing that this other power will hold it for you so you don’t have to...that’s submission. 

(And for religious folks who are feeling super uncomfortable about seeing themselves in what I just said, I’m not trying to say you’ve got a kink for God or anything, what you’re doing is fine and normal and a perfectly reasonable expression of faith. I’m just saying, this all comes from the same place in the weird human hindbrain, and we talk a lot more openly about religion than we do about kink.)

In any case, as someone who isn’t kinky or religious I still found a way to employ this technique in my life. I’m in a fairly self-driven job and I live alone -- and, as it turns out, I have ADHD, which adds a layer of stress and cognitive load to my life. So I found it useful, if difficult at first, to be able to take time away from Doing Tasks and also from the guilt that I’m Not Doing Tasks. Because I’m not really all that great at trusting people in general, I’ve always been a bit on my own when it came to managing it, so I improvised and learned tricks and techniques. 

I used to love to travel by train because until recently (and definitely prior to smartphones) most Amtrak trains didn’t have internet, meaning that I was severely limited in the amount of work I could do even if I enjoyed it. I could write, if I brought my laptop, but couldn’t research, answer email, participate in social media, etc. If I wanted, I could just stare out the window for hours, at peace with the world because it was not currently my job to be doing anything in the world other than existing. 

Sometimes I set an alarm (so I don’t even have to worry about watching a clock) and mentally log off for a bit if I'm feeling super stressed, basically giving myself permission not to do anything -- not to expect anything of myself -- for a short period of time. This sounds a bit like meditation but is not meditation as we commonly think of it; I'm not focused on inner anything or counting breathing or being still or “succeeding” at something that it turns out I’m actually very bad at (I have a real problem with meditative techniques that begin with sitting upright because I find it very uncomfortable physically). It’s just a period of time where I do what pleased me, and only what pleased me, forbidden from doing anything else. 

Eventually I reached a point where I could do something like take a “sick day” and drop myself into that space for a whole day without needing to be physically cut off from reality. I spend the day in bed or on the sofa, reminding myself whenever I get restless that I am “sick” and unable to work, fulfill obligations, clean house, or run errands. Again, I'm not usually doing nothing; I’m playing games or scrolling tumblr or reading a book I want to read or watching a movie I want to watch, but it has to be something I do not feel compelled to do out of guilt or responsibility (I can scroll tumblr but I have permission not to engage with any of it, etc). I’m not watching movies I’ve told people I'll watch; I’m watching, like, Desk Set for the 300th time. 

Coming out of that mental space can be difficult, but generally speaking I also come back refreshed and better for it. It takes practice and it’s not for everyone, but if it seems appealing or if it feels like something you already do unconsciously, being conscious and deliberate about it can be very helpful in relieving stress and providing comfort. 

[bellygunnr]

Knight Out on Downtown Dialtown

Knight rider x Dialtown. Good fuckin' luck.

The alley behind Bunny’s burger joint is dingy. The signs plastered everywhere for people to “get their own trash” don’t make it any better. Actually, the gap between brick-and-mortar stores is surprisingly full-up with random filler, but the taped posters and graffiti can’t obscure the rank scent or the squelch of mud and refuse pounded into the cracked pavement. At the very least, it’s well lit, and the only major obstacle doubles as your destination.

A dumpster. A violet, heavily tagged dumpster, which— if the locals were to be believed— also doubled as a rental.

You hesitate, though. You lean back against your car, letting your head tilt back until the back of your helmet rests against the t-top structure. Red text appears in the corner of your visor, bringing a wry smile to your face.

This place is awful, Michael. Surely no one actually lives here?

You’re no good at texting back. “He pays rent and everything, KITT,” you say aloud.

You have to be careful not to activate the external mic. Thank GodPhone-God that Bonnie had deigned to add a toggle. Gave you and KITT some privacy while you both struggled your way through the city, whose populace was… interesting. Definitely jarring. Made you itchy, too. The racing helmet you and KITT chose is heavy and hot, the air cooling unable to keep up all of the time. And, well. You’ve both been running at orange since you rode in.

“Michael,” KITT imposes quietly. “We should find that Mr. Jade. That way, if he isn’t here, we can go to a car wash. Or a decontam chamber.”

Fuck. You unfurl yourself away from KITT’s chassis and stretch until your spine cracks. Your shuffling echoes.

The button to hit the mic takes a few chin waggles to fully depress. You hope the tell-tale clicking doesn’t tip people off anytime soon.

“Is there a Randal Jade here? Oh, that’s loud, KI—”

KITT, did you put on the amplifier, goes unspoken, because you bite your tongue. Your voice still rattles the alley, having been pitched way louder than necessary.

Yes, KITT messages plainly.

The dumpster rattles ominously. Trash goes flying as someone pops out from the top, bandaged, bloodied hands gripping the corrugated metal. KITT quickly identifies the Phonehead as a Nokia 3410 which you know is more for his benefit than yours. It just also happens to be Randal’s.

Why does he have “fuckface” scrawled on his head? KITT sends.

How the hell are you supposed to know? You’re wondering that yourself as you wait for Randal to get situated. He seems to struggle, or maybe your shouting disoriented him. Way to go, Michael.

“Um, hey there,” Randal says, slightly breathless. “I’m— I’m Randal Jade. You should just call me Randy, though. Am I in trouble?”

“No, no, no, Randy. You’re not in trouble!” You hurry to placate him for some reason. “I’m Michael Knight. I’m with the Foundation. Why don’t you, uh, come outside so we can talk?”

Randy puffs himself up slightly. Or as much as he can. He seems to be getting the shakes, propping himself up this long over the edge of the dumpster.

“Why don’t YOU come inside? So we can talk? Since this is my house and all…”

He’s got you there, KITT whispers in your ear.

You don’t honor KITT with a response. You both know that getting into that humble abode is not a fucking option.

“Do you really want me to come inside, Randy?”

Randy sighs and hefts one leg over. He falls to the ground in a heap. The thud isn’t as heavy as it probably should be.

“No, not really,” Randy says, staring up at the sky.

You approach him, offering a hand up. You’re not sure if he makes any sort of eye-contact, but his buttons and dim screen stare into your visor for what seems like an eternity before he accepts the help. The bandages are slimy against your palm. Sweat is visibly running down his neck.

KITT wordlessly provides a visual of Randy’s body and relevant vitals. Diagnosis? Some kind of terrified. He probably thinks you’re a cop.

Randy gets his feet under him, but you can’t stop yourself from giving him a pat down or hanging onto his elbows a little too long. You have a feeling if you don’t play your cards right, he’ll crumple into a wet paper ball…

If you think he is riding in my cabin, you are mistaken.

“Thanks… for that,” Randy says.

“Uh, yeah. No problem. Uh. Right. I’m Michael. From the Foundation. Apparently, you may be the only witness to a crime. I need your help.”

Randal stares up at you. He seems to shrink back slightly. You have to step back so his head doesn’t knock against your helmet as he bows it meekly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. “I didn’t see any crimes.”

“That’s the thing! You did! It was just a very plain-sight crime and are you actively bleeding through your bandages?”

You can’t help yourself. You’re too wound up to not notice the spreading red on his hands, even as he tries to hide them. Even KITT is highlighting the issue, which seems to be taking precedence over his distaste in being in this situation.

His hands and arms appear to be covered in bite marks. I cannot identify what from.

“When am I not bleeding through my bandages?” Randy asks, laughing a little. “You know how it is. Work runs out of first aid supplies…Just can’t keep up with PURE, UNFILTERED AVIAN RAGE. And how bad I am at wrangling them…”

He shrinks back in on himself, arms wrapped around his body, hands tucked away. His voice had swelled with momentary bravado that immediately cracked on the vowel and kept breaking all the way down.

You’re glad the helmet hides your expressions. But it also impedes your impulse control. You delicately grab Randy’s wrist and tug him toward not just yourself, but KITT, whose wheels crunch audibly against the pavement.

“Michael,” KITT says warningly.

Randy squawks and tries to bolt. You clamp down on him, and he’s not even heavy enough to pull on you.

“What— who was that?” Randy whispers.

You ignore him.

“KITT, come on. The IFAK’s still in there, right? It doesn’t even have to be inside the car—”

“I didn’t have covert murder on the list of ways I was going to die,” Randy says, “and I’m not sure if it’s better than the swans.”

“Murder? Michael, he thinks you’re going to kill him!”

“I— I’m not! Randy, who would even want to kill you?”

What is GOING ON. You didn’t even mean to say that, but Randy takes it and runs, gesturing with his free hand and mumbling incoherently. In your peripheral, you see KITT start to inch backwards, utilizing his “Silent Mode” for all it’s worth, apparently.

“KITT! Remember what you said about the public transit!” You cry out, marching after him.

“Who’s KITT?” Randy squeaks as he stumbles after you.

You debate asking why KITT even broke cover, considering their circumstances, but you have a feeling you know why. There’s no way you’re getting Randy back to the hotel on foot, after all, but both this alley-way and Randy’s, uh, eau de Desperation, will never get out of the upholstery. It’s never getting out of your clothing, either. So.

KITT makes a retching sound in your ear. New and gross. You don’t know if you should praise him for learning a new trick or scold him for making you sympathy-gag. But as you determinedly drag Randy behind you, KITT rolls to a stop and pops both doors.

“Randy—” You start.

“Kidnapping has to be, a, uh, vertical movement right? In terms of living conditions?” Randy asks.

You don’t say anything. His bandages aren’t even well-applied, really. KITT probably would have told you if he was infected, though.

Not even Devon can get you out of kidnapping and murder charges, KITT messages. It takes all of your willpower not to react.

“I never did agree to come with you,” Randy clarifies. “But we both know I’m not strong enough to get away, so why bother! This might as well happen!”

That… would make it kidnapping. You did plan on taking him to a second location. His injuries just threw you out of sorts. Even more out of sorts than you already were, and KITT’s sheer distaste for the current mission, well. Maybe you should take it from the top.

Very gently, you kneel down, clasping his hand more tightly between your own. Waterfowl, sweat, and fear would presumably be flooding your nostrils if not for the very over-engineered helmet over your head. You drag your thumb across his knuckles.

“Randy. I am serious. You can help us with this case. I just can’t let an injured man bleed out on my watch. Let me help you. So you can help us.”

Randy’s fingers wrap around yours. His free hand scrabbles at the back of his head’s paneling, apparently embarrassed by your display of chivalry. A tiny, aborted beeping sound filters out from within.

“Wow. You— you know what? Okay. Okay. I’ll go with you. If it’ll really help,” Randy says.

For some reason, you get the distinct impression he’s blushing. Maybe because his neck turns a darker pink, now that you can see it from the ground. Your pant legs are ruined, actually. Why did you do this?

Randal’s vitals have heightened. I dare say he’s attracted to you.

“You would know,” you mutter internally.

I heard that. Hurry up. This alleyway is going to ruin me.

To your surprise, Randy helps you back to your feet. The effort makes him visibly wilt and more sweat pours off of him in waves. Delicately, you nudge him over to KITT’s passenger door, which is still ajar.

“This is KITT, by the way. He’s my partner. Are you familiar with the hotel?”

Randy throws you an odd look, or what has to qualify as an odd look with a Nokia for a head. But he pries open the door and peers inside, hesitant. You cross around to the driver’s side and unceremoniously dump yourself in.

KITT’s voicebox is looking more like a face everyday.

“…Which hotel? Um, uhh…”

You decide to give him a minute while you look for the IFAK and manually take KITT out of silent mode. He gives you a low tone of reproach in your helmet, but quiets down as he apparently cottons on to how the low whine of the turbine soothes you.

“Hello, Randal,” KITT says.

Randy chirps.

“Are you— the car?”

“That is close enough for now, yes. You’re in good hands now.”

You throw a suspicious look at KITT’s vocoder, which pulses in time to his voice. He’s speaking lower and smoother than usual, and your skin prickles oddly. First, he blows cover, then he starts flirting? Maybe you’ll let him keep it up. See where it goes.

“Am- am I? Hey, maybe I should just get out and walk… I just realized your interior is REALLY clean and—”

KITT lurches forward with a rip of his engine. You snatch the steering yoke to at least pretend you’re driving before he truly hands you manual control. Sedately, you nose back out onto the streets. Dialtown traffic has wound down somewhat.

“Do not. Worry. About that,” KITT lies, in a tone of voice that says Randy should be worrying about it.

Far more kindly: “Why don’t we begin with your day? We could start with the swans.”

One of KITT’s screens starts showing a black-and-white rendition of a swan. It has a paper shredder for a head.

You should be commended for driving like nothing is wrong. You didn’t see the paper-shredder fowl when you had scoped out the park. Too busy losing it over the condition of the grass at the time (and chasing Little Billy away from KITT; he had… interesting vocabulary).

Randy sinks low into the seat to accommodate his… head. Phone. He trembles visibly, presumably in agony.

“We have time if it’s a long story,” KITT says coaxingly.

“KITT—” You start on the internal mic.

You proposed to him first. I am merely following through.

“And I’ve heard that one before…”

Randy’s hands move and writhe as he stops and starts, clearly trying to pick his way through— whatever got him into his specific mess in the first place. It’s going to be a long drive back to Uptown Dialtown.

[scientia-rex]

"You're saying people can't change their lives"

I wrote this as a reply to a reblog of my original post but I don't want to deal with their inevitable pissy backlash--because it's not somebody who follows me, of course it's not, so they won't see this unless I tag them into it and frankly I don't want to deal with their shit. But I did want to express that they were wrong on the Internet.

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii so the idea that there is "nothing you can do to change your life" is not! not! not! what I said or what I'm saying! It's that changing your life to make yourself thinner is not inherently good; changing your life to make yourself healthier absolutely is. Thinner does not equal healthier. Thinner does not equal morally superior.

Eat more vegetables. Move around in ways that don't punish you. Don't do this because thinner is better, but because you want to be able to do things you enjoy and live the life you want to live.

And "you absolutely have the power and ability to lose weight if you want, and keep it off" is not supported by hard data. Go ahead! Dig into my claims, point out where you think I'm misinterpreting data, but find me the data that suggest we can--on a population level, not an exceptional individual level--do that. If the failure rate for a program like Weight Watchers is greater than 95%, that doesn't mean it's impossible for everyone to do, it means it's impossible for most people, and that chunk of the population who can't do it should not feel shame or like they're not good enough.

People really struggle with the idea that there are differential hard limitations to what people can do with their bodies. They look at me and they can see, right off the bat, that I am never going to be a professional basketball player. I just don't have the height. Never have, never will. But there is a sense that if something isn't that obvious and visible, it's not a real limitation. And there are other real limits to what I can do based on my body. I can lift, lift, lift weights all day long, but there's a limit to how much muscle I can put on. A big part of that is genetic. Some of it's hormonal. Some of it's epigenetic. Some of it's nutritional. There are interactions between all of those factors. And a good chunk of it is unknown factors--things we don't currently understand.

But when it comes to weight, suddenly people think there's no limits--there's no reason you can't lose that weight if you just: and it's always "if you just," as if this were simple, as if losing the weight were the point, not living a good life, a healthy life, an enjoyable life.

If you make those changes and lose weight, great! Good for you. But don't pretend the same changes will work for everyone, because they simply won't. A lot of us could eat better and move around more and still be "fat." And it wouldn't be any of your business, but you'd still feel compelled to have an opinion about it, wouldn't you? You'd see us on the street and think, God, look at that. Pity; contempt. Fear that you might one day look like this.

And you might, especially if you're a cisgender woman, because the hormonal shifts that come with menopause alter your metabolism. And that won't make you worth less than you were before. Except in the eyes of people who have a vested interest in keeping you hating yourself, dull, slow, starving, and paying money to the mega-corporations who profit off your self-hatred.

[moonfruito]

Hey! I want to start jrwi, but idk where to begin. Any advice?

:D !!! oh the IMMENSE joy i felt receiving this ask !! i am about to ramble a little a lot - if anything does not make sense then feel free to ask more questions :))

the main campaign of just roll with it is riptide, a pirate campaign dmed by grizzly set in the world of mana, where the planet is nearly all water save for some scattered islands. the characters are gillion tidestrider, a triton paladin/sorcerer played by charlie slimecicle, chip, a human rogue played by bizly and jay ferin, a human ranger played by condifiction. there's a playlist with all the episodes on so it's pretty simple :)

i have found that my irl friends who have never watched dnd podcasts before have struggled to get past the first arc, around the ep11-14 mark, but i see from a peek at your bio that you're a critical role fan so you'll probably have no issue :) the earlier episodes are slower to start but they're still great! the quality does improve a lot as time goes, naturally.

there's also two prequel episodes for riptide which you don't need to watch, but they're worth noting if you want to go back to them after you catch up like i did, or you could watch them before if you want a bit of extra lore context.

that's probably all the information you need to get started, but i am going to give you some more information about the patreon campaigns as well - you don't have to pay attention to all this if you want to just keep it simple! i just feel like giving a full beginner's guide for no reason lmao

for all three of the campaigns i'm about to talk about, it is $5 a month - obviously not asking you to just jump right in and give them money but i do very highly recommend it if you find you enjoy this podcast!! it's a fairly low cost for a lot of great quality content.

prime defenders is the main patreon campaign, and it's a mutants and masterminds superhero campaign dmed by bizly. the characters are teenaged boys with superpowers, enlisted to help defend the world of prime. charlie plays william wisp, who has ghost powers, grizzly plays dakota cole, who has super strength and does martial arts, and condi plays vyncent sol, who's from another world and has people living inside his brain? i don't really know how to explain that one uhhh the first five episodes are available for free - won't link each because it'll clog up the post but here's the first one. decent place to start if you're considering getting the patreon, although similarly to riptide the beginning episodes are a little slower as they start around the same time.

this one i'd personally recommend watching after you finish the other campaigns, simply because it's the longest of the patreon campaigns, but it is very great! <33 it also has two prequel episodes which are for free - similarly not required watching but good fun nonetheless!

apotheosis is a fifteen episode-long mini-campaign where the players go around and kill all the gods, dmed by condi. peter sqloint is a human possessed by an archangel played by charlie, rumi is a changeling bard/warlock who is chasing visions played by grizzly and thanatos is a very intense and murderous war forged played by bizly. first episode is available for free, and it is essentially the compiled session zeroes of their individual characters.

this campaign is, in my personal opinion, the best place to start for patreon because of the shorter length and how easy and quick it is to get into. if this was not a patreon campaign i would recommend this as the best place to start jrwi, honestly, because the shorter length means everything's more packed in and faster-paced and it helps you get into the swing of things and get the satisfaction of watching through all of it, while also showcasing the potential of the episodes to come later in the longer campaigns.

blood in the bayou is a four episode-long call of cthulhu campaign set in galloway, louisiana in the 1980s, dmed by charlie, where three old friends reunite and discover their hometown's local horrors. kian stone, a big city rockstar, is played grizzly, timothy rand, a stoner still living with his parents, is played by bizly, and rolan deep, a lawyer, is played by condi. it is audio-only and has higher quality sound design and an original soundtrack. pretty different for the other campaigns but so well-made. good place to start with patreon as well! the first episode is available for free too <3

and that's all for the recent stuff! there were a couple other campaigns from years back that never got finished and never will get finished and some scattered oneshots but i hope that was all helpful in some way!! i hope you have a great time watching jrwi and that you'll fall in love with this podcast like i and many other people have! <33 really happy to see you interested - lot of love has been put into this show and each of the campaigns really are so good :) again, if you have any more questions then go ahead and ask!! i'm always happy to help :D

also if anyone wants to rb this for other potential jrwi watchers then feel free to ?? idk if anyone was considering that but y'know the recent influx of qsmp charlie fans might have some takers and the jrwi propaganda machine never stops